Accidents
by pisces317
Summary: Wilson experiences random fits of clumsiness, House helps comfort him. A fic focused on the relationship between Wilson/House, Cuddy/Wilson/House with some Wilson Whump. Warnings: Slash incl. & No mysterious illnesses involved. Please review
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

_**BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**_

Wilson's alarm blared annoyingly letting him know that it was time to get up and start another day. He hit the _SILENCE/STOP_ button, shutting it off before it woke his partner, lover and friend Dr. Gregory House. The man could be VERY grumpy when woken up early and no one, especially his team of ducklings because he'd take his grumpiness out on them, needed that.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to encourage him to get up and start his day. He has a very busy day today with patient visit after visit after visit after visit and then his patient rounds and clinic duty. In his entire 9-10hr day he has MAYBE a half hour scheduled to grab some lunch. Wilson didn't normally schedule his day quite THIS full but he had had a couple of doctors refer patients to him for consults and he tried to get those in ASAP, with cancer you normally couldn't afford to wait should you decrease the amount of time they have by delaying the process or should the disease progress too fast.

Wilson threw the blankets off him, shivering as the chill of November soaked into his skin. He stole a peek out the window, groaning inwardly when he saw snow on the ground and the snow plows hard at work. Snow means there's probably ice as well, hiding below the serene blanket of white waiting to attack. He used to like snow, before House had his infarction. Now Wilson spends every snowy day worrying about House falling on the ice and hurting himself worse or dealing with an especially grumpy House because the snow and cold makes the pain in his leg worse.

The cold makes his left wrist and right ankle ache, they were old injuries that still give him problems every once in awhile, showing just how old he is getting even though most days he doesn't feel it. He knew that, after watching his parents slowly deteriorate from old age and lack of health, getting old could be a bitch and therefore he endeavored to try to keep himself as healthy as possible via exercising and eating right.

He climbed out of the shower, drying off and slipping on his boxer-briefs before continuing with his morning rituals, trying to keep quiet so as to not wake House. He always saved blow drying his hair to the very last because normally by that time House should be getting up and getting himself ready to go in as well.

Wilson slips into their bedroom and gets dressed before going into the kitchen and putting on a pot of coffee. While the coffee brews he has a quick breakfast of Raisin Bran and orange juice, grabbing a To-Go coffee cup and filling it before heading back to their bedroom and giving his lover a quick "see you later" kiss and heading out the door.

He's happy to find that the front walk had been shoveled and salted. At least he wouldn't have to worry about House slipping on the sidewalk on the way to his car. He goes over to his own car and proceeds to "de-snowify" it, wiping all the snow and ice off his windows and then grabs the small collapsible shovel from his trunk and clears away the packed snow that the snow plow had deposited against his car.

By the time he's done and climbs into his nice and warm car, his cheeks are flush with heat, he's breathing slightly heavily, and his aches from this morning are intensified slightly and joined in with a back ache from the shoveling. It seems that no matter how much he tries to take care of himself, he still manages to wind up with minor aches and pains from too much exertion. Granted, during the winter his exercising decreases enough to where shoveling snow is a major aerobic exercise.

Wilson arrives at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital's parking lot with ease, parking his car far enough away to get in a small walk before he has to go in. It's these little walks that provide his daily exercise during the winter and though they aren't much, they are enough for him.

He smiles at the PPTH employees who are out spreading salt over the sidewalks to ensure that patients and employees alike are as safe as can be from falling before entering the building itself and scurrying quickly up to his office to deposit his coat and brief case, dons his white lab coat and begins catching up on emails and phone calls before he has his first appointment at 9a.

He grabs his coffee thermos and begins to drink the 12oz of caffeine knowing he's going to need it. _It's going to be a long day! _He tells himself just before he buckles down to get the morning over with.

* * *

Wilson takes a deep breath to steel himself against the next onslaught of patients. It had been a busy morning indeed and he had just escorted his last patient of the morning out his door. For the most part, all of his appointments this morning had been good ones; informing most of them that their cancer is in remission and telling two that their biopsies were negative and that they didn't have cancer at all. He only had one patient meeting that wasn't pleasant since he had had to tell her that she had breast cancer. The patient took it well, though he attributed that to shock, and he began to explain to her where things will go from there, what her prognosis was and what her options were.

He groaned inwardly when he heard the door open but looked up to find that it wasn't his office door that had opened as he had expected, it was his balcony door. House was sitting on his couch, absentmindedly rubbing his thigh and staring at Wilson with the kind of stare that makes one feel like they're being dissected.

"You look tired." He stated.

"I'm fine, just a busy day." Wilson dismissed while he ran a hand over his face, trying to force some energy into himself.

"Got time to eat?"

Wilson checked the clock. 12 noon. His next patient wasn't until 1p but he didn't fully trust fate today and fully expected to get a page about a patient. However, he wasn't about to let that stop him from taking a well deserved break and get some lunch with his friend. "Yeah, actually. You?" he asked knowing that if House didn't have time he wouldn't have come in.

"Yep." House replied while stiffly standing up.

"You ok?" Wilson asked concerned though he knew what was wrong.

House gave a slight nod, "Fine. I hate the cold."

Wilson nodded but proceeded to stiffly stand up himself. His back had become stiff and tight with the hours of constant sitting and the exercise it was put through this morning. He winced slightly hoping House wouldn't catch it. He stole a peek at his friend through his peripheral vision and if House had seen the wince, he didn't say or do anything.

Together they walked to the cafeteria, Wilson on House's right. Wilson always found it more comfortable to be on the diagnosticians right, thus making him on Wilson's left. Being left-handed, he preferred people to walk on his left side and this way he could catch the older doctor should his leg give out or the cane slip.

They grabbed their meals and headed toward a booth along the wall. Wilson's back still ached but it had loosened up to where he was moving well and not showing signs of the dull throb he felt. He was surprised to see House moving as well as he was for it was obvious that he was in a great deal of pain.

They ate genially, making small talk and laughing continuously. House's hand constantly snaked over to Wilson's plate, stealing his fries and whatever else House thought he wanted. Wilson outwardly ignored the thievery and inwardly laughed. People often wondered WHY he allowed the taciturn doctor to constantly take Wilson's food when he had his own and the truth was that it made Wilson feel good. This way he knows that House eats and he's happy. Both are win-wins. Besides, a habit that is over 15years in the making is hard to break.

"What's wrong with your wrist?" House's voice asks breaking through Wilson's thoughts.

Wilson looked down at his hands. He wasn't even aware that he was rubbing his wrist. "The cold." He answered succinctly knowing House would understand. The ache in his wrist was still there though ever so slightly diminished from this morning. He looked at his watch. "Well, I have to go, I have a patient in 15minutes." He said just as House's pager went off.

House nodded but otherwise didn't say anything as he sped off in the direction of his patient's room.

Wilson sighed before depositing both of their trash in the trash cans and heading for the diagnostic department to grab a quick cup of coffee before he began another hour of patient visits followed by an hour of paperwork and emails followed by an hour of clinic and another hour of patient rounds. God he hated Mondays!

* * *

At 6 o'clock pm Wilson walked into his office thoroughly exhausted and aching. The constant writing, signing his signature and typing caused the ache in his wrist to increase from a dull throb to a sharp stab every time he moved it. His ankle and back had joined the chorus of cries of pain as well, not liking all the walking and standing he had been doing over the last few hours.

Wilson groaned when he spotted a couple of blue folders on his desk, indicating a cancer patient, with bright orange sticky tabs sticking out of them, indicating consults. All he wanted to do is go home and collapse on the couch, cuddling up with House. However he knew that he wouldn't be able to ignore the last minute consults, if he did he'd be thinking about them all night anyways, so he grudgingly grabbed them but decided to lie down on the couch instead of sitting as his desk.

His assistant had been kind, and smart, enough to place his recorder on top of the files so that he could easily lie on couch and dictate his notes. She was a perceptive one that Julia, that's for sure.

Just as he'd finished his last file, House walked into the office and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk opposite the couch. He had been moving easier than early which made the blanket of worry that always covered Wilson to lift slightly.

"Why are you still here?" House asked.

"Why are you?" Wilson countered without answering House's question.

"Got a patient that might bleed out soon, thought it'd be fun to watch." House quipped. Translation – "Patient's in surgery and I'm waiting to see if anything goes wrong."

"Ah. I had some last minute consults that I wanted to finish with before I left." Wilson replied while pinching the bridge of his nose, all the reading had given him a headache.

House eyed him critically before nodding. "You going to go home?"

"Yeah, I think I will. I'll get some dinner going." Wilson said while nodding. He stood up and started gathering his things. He finished and leaned against the front of his desk, looking at House. "Do you need anything?"

"Nope." House responded after drawing in a deep breath. He stood up and stepped closer to Wilson, longing and desire radiating off of him.

Before House had a chance to lean in, Wilson grabbed him and pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss full of desire. When the need to breathe caught up with Wilson, he pulled away, both of them panting and their eyes filled with a fire that a river of water couldn't kill.

House smirked. "See you soon." He said huskily, his voice sounding more like a threat than a promise. Then he left to go watch the surgery.

* * *

Wilson pulled up to the curb outside their apartment half an hour later, anxiously awaiting for when House got home to fulfill the silent threat that wasn't threatening at all. He climbed out of his warm car, shivering when the below zero temperature seeped into his bones.

He walked toward the apartment, thinking about what to make for dinner and what they'd do afterwards when he felt his left foot slide out from under him and his right ankle twist painfully when his right leg tried to keep the rest of his body balance, causing his right knee to twist excruciatingly and pop. His arms flailed in midair giving a spectator the image of a cartoon character trying to fly while in midair.

Wilson cried out, the sound echoing outside sounding more like a scream, as he hit the ground hard. Thankfully he had the presence of mind to hold his head tightly to his chest to help prevent it from hitting the cold concrete.

He laid there in excruciating agony while he took a silent inventory of his injuries. His neck and back throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His chest hurt from having the wind knocked about of him and he's fairly certain he'll have some beautiful bruises on his right side. His knee was pure uninterrupted agony; he had felt and heard the sickening _POP_ but he didn't think it was worse than a dislocation. The pain in his ankle was quickly joining the pain in his knee. _Just Great! _ He thought.

Wilson heard the sounds of footprints running up to him. "Sir, are you alright?" a kind voice asked full of concern.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to say yes. His knee needed to be popped back in place at the least and there was no way he was letting anyone besides a trained doctor try. "No. Call an ambulance." He said while panting, trying to keep from throwing up what little food he'd managed to eat for lunch and a gallon of coffee. "Ask them to take me to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital." He informed the young lady. This wasn't going to be fun!

* * *

**_AN: The part where Wilson prefers people to walk on his left side is my quirk. I'm left-handed and prefer it if people walk to my left, leaving me to walk on their right. Please review and let me know what you think!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**_AN: If there's anything "off"/wrong with the medicine (or pain level) I'm sorry. I'm nowhere near in the medical field and I haven't experienced any of these injuries so I'm guessing. Please review and let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 2:**

Dr. Gregory House had been sitting in the recliner in his office with his leg resting on the ottoman and a heating pad wrapped around it. He hated cold weather more than he hated morons. It intensified the pain in his ruined thigh by a factor of 10 every time, leaving him incapable of doing much but sitting in his office attached to the heating pad.

He noticed with a small glint of sick satisfaction that he wasn't the only one affected by it however. When he went to Wilson's office for lunch he noticed the oncologist wince, which was barely perceptible, every time he bent his wrist and he noticed the way the unintentionally slight limp had become more pronounced. He knew that Wilson had injured his wrist and ankle badly a long time ago and therefore suffered from aches when the cold came. He doubted that Wilson even knew he was doing the winces and more pronounced limp, especially since he hadn't seemed to realize that he had begun to gently massage his wrist at lunch. Normally he hated seeing Wilson in pain, but this pain wasn't extreme enough for him to feel pity for.

House stood up and started packing up his things to head home, having already heard that the surgery went well and Chase and Masters were hanging around to keep an eye out, when his cell phone rang.

House groaned when he saw Cuddy's name pop up on the screen. He really didn't want to talk to her but his instincts told him he needed to answer the phone. "What?" he snapped into the mouthpiece.

"It's Wilson." Cuddy's voice told him resignedly.

"What's he done now? Been caught sleeping with a patient?" House quipped even though his stomach tightened at the thought.

"No and you know that." Cuddy scolded. "He's on his way to the emergency room." She told him, pity softening her tone.

House felt his heart skip a beat and nearly dropped the phone. "What happened?" He asked, failing miserably to keep the concern out of his tone.

"The paramedics say they found him flat on his back on the ground. They assumed he had just gotten home from work and fell on the ice since he was still in his suit and had his work ID attached to his belt. The ambulance will be here in 5minutes, you might want to be here when it is." She told him before she hung up.

House ended the call on his own phone, his hands shaking. Cuddy hadn't told him how badly Wilson was hurt and his mind automatically began running through worst scenarios. He quickly dispelled those images and thoughts, slamming his backpack onto his chair and limped angrily down to the Ambulance Bay Doors.

* * *

House arrived in time to see the ambulance pull up. He stood next to Cuddy who was standing there waiting nervously to see how injured her Head of Oncology was. House knew that though she often made the pretense of caring about Wilson for the sake of her hospital in front of others, she really did care and worry about him just as much as she did about House. Besides Lucas, House and Wilson were her two closest friends.

He felt Cuddy put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrug it off, finding it oddly comforting though he'd never admit it. Most of his focus was on the man on the gurney that the paramedics were unloading from the ambulance.

House felt Cuddy release a breath of relief when she saw that Wilson was conscious and, other than being in a lot of pain, ok. House was inclined to join her but the sight of his lover in such extreme pain took the breath that he'd been holding away. It was obvious Wilson was trying not to cry out in agony every time the bed was jostled. That knowledge was a sucker punch in the stomach that nearly brought House to his knees.

He followed behind Wilson's flying bed as quickly as he could, not missing the _click clack _of Cuddy's heels behind him.

Cuddy put a hand on his arm when he tried to enter the triage room that the paramedics had, under the direction of the ER staff which tonight included Chase apparently, wheeled the bed to. "You should stay out here. You'd only be in the way." She told him gently.

Even though he knew she was right, House felt his hold on his frustration slip away. "Oh really?" He countered as he whirled angrily around to face her. "You think that me, a doctor, would be in the way of treating a patient?" he growled.

"House, that's not just any patient in there, it's Wilson and you and I both know that you aren't objective when it comes to him." She told him firmly.

"House!" Chase called to him. "He's becoming tachycardic. I need you to come in here and calm him down."

"Of course he's tachycardic, do you know how much pain he's in?" House bellowed as he rushed passed Chase to Wilson.

"We gave him something to dampen the pain House, we aren't idiots!" Chase yelled after House as he trailed the older doctor.

Wilson lay on the gurney, his right leg splinted from the middle of his thigh down, his neck in a brace and a splint on his left arm from the middle of his forearm down. He was panting heavily while keeping his eyes and mouth clenched shut tight, the heart monitor screamed its alarm that its subject's heart rate was too high.

House laid a gentle but reassuring hand on his lover's non-splinted hand. "Wilson, you need to calm down." He said soothingly into the younger man's ear. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack, calm down." He said again when his first attempt didn't work. The monitor still screamed. After another few seconds House leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Wilson's forehead. "James, you need to calm down. Please." He pleaded and urged.

That got Wilson's attention enough to calm down his heart rate and stop the ear shattering wail of the monitor. His pulse was still too high for House's liking but he knew that there was nothing he could do about that until after the ER doctors performed their tests.

Wilson opened his tightly clenched eyes, the chocolate brown orbs filled with so much pain that House wanted to cry, and focused on House. It had always amazed House just HOW expressive Wilson's eyes could be. There shouldn't be room in the beautiful brown eyes for so much pain and yet also have room for relief and happiness that they now showed.

House looked up at Chase who nodded his head yes at a question House had never voiced. He looked back down at Wilson, "I've got to leave for a little while but I'll be back once they're done torturing you with boring and pointless tests." He said, trying to intone a little of his normal cynicism and comedy into a voice that radiated concern.

Wilson looked up at House. "Leg?" he asked as a tear streaked down his face.

House almost laughed out loud. Of course Wilson would be worried about House's leg while he's in excruciating pain. House rolled his eyes, "My leg is fine you idiot, worry about yourself for once in your life."

That made Wilson laugh and then wince and grimace in pain. He lifted his hand, using it to shoo House of the room.

House bent down once again and placed a kiss on Wilson's forehead before he exited the room and collapsed into one of the hospital chairs.

Cuddy came and sat down beside him, she hadn't left her spot since House had left to calm Wilson down. "How is he?" she asks, concern warming her gorgeous grey eyes and creasing her forehead.

House lets out a huge sigh. "He's in a lot of pain but other than that I don't know." He told her. "I went in there and calmed him down and then left so they could finish they're examination."

Cuddy placed an encouraging and comforting hand over his hand, which had been resting on his left leg, and gave a gentle squeeze. She never said anything but House could still hear her meaning. _"I'm sorry." "It'll be ok." "He'll be fine"_

They sat in amicable silence for a few minutes before they heard someone cry out in pain and both of their hearts clenched painfully when they realized it was Wilson. House stole a look at Cuddy and saw tears shining in her eyes but she held them back stoically until they heard another cry of pain that came close to scream and a sickeningly loud _POP_, then the tears flowed down her cheeks freely.

House didn't blame her. God it had hurt knowing that James was in that kind of pain, but if there's one thing that House refuses to do, it's cry.

Chase came out a couple minutes after that while the nurses wheeled Wilson away. "He'll be fine." He began.

"Duh, tell us something we don't know!" House snarked.

"They're taking him up to radiology to get MRI and X-ray images of his wrist, knee and ankle. His knee was dislocated but we popped it back in and want to get images of it to make sure there was no further damage. It looks like he has sprained his wrist and ankle and possibly his back but we won't know for sure until we get him to Radiology." Chase informed them, knowing full well that they were both doctors and he didn't have to give them quite so much information but it made HIM to feel better to do it. He turned to House, "You should go hang out in your office until he's done. You know these things take a long time and you'll be more comfortable in your recliner than the hard chairs of the waiting room."

"I'm fine here." House growled warningly.

Chase looked at Cuddy imploringly. Not only would it help with the efficiency of the ER but Chase cared about House and seen how much pain he had been in all day.

Cuddy picked up on his silent meaning and put her hand on House's arm. "House, come on. It won't do Wilson any good for you to sit in these hard and uncomfortable chairs, terrorizing the nursing staff. Go to your office and get your leg up, one of us will page you when we have news."

House turned a steely glare on Cuddy. "So it's ok if you stay but I should go?" he accused.

"Yes. I don't terrify the staff nor do I interrupt their job. Wilson will be busy for a couple of hours anyways." She replied, returning his glare.

"Besides," Chase interjected, "didn't Wilson shoo you out of his room so you could take care of your leg?" House glared at him but it phased Chase just about as much as it phased Cuddy, which wasn't at all. "He needs you to take care of yourself now because you're going to have to take care of him."

"Don't make me call security." Cuddy warned.

"Fine!" He all but yelled and pointed a finger into Chase's chest. "You had better call me when he's available and keep me up to date on his progress."

"Like we could keep it from you?" Chase asked incredulously while smiling widely.

This caused House to smile slightly, "Touché." He said and he heavily limped off towards his office.

* * *

They watched him go for a moment before Cuddy turned to Chase. "Thanks." She said.

Chase nodded, knowing she was grateful for more than the update. "You're welcome." His hand reached to his belt where his pager was beeping, demanding his attention. He looked down at the message. "They've finished with the X-rays and are taking him for the MRI. I should go."

Cuddy smiled. Even though Chase hadn't said it, she could hear the rest of his sentence: _I want to be there for him. _Like Cameron, Chase was a very sympathetic person. However, unlike Cameron he knows how to hide it. Chase cares about Wilson just as much as he cares about House and not just because Wilson is his boss' partner and best friend.

James Wilson is one of the most caring guys Cuddy knows. He's a fixer and therefore he's someone who's good to open up to. He listens patiently to one's problems and hurts for those that hurt. He has a heart that's as big as a crater and he's polite to everyone, hardly ever gets angry, making him easy to approach with a problem. _Don't get me wrong_, Cuddy thought, _he has his flaws but they are generally hidden beneath layers of caring, guilt and control._

Being one of the longest participating fellows, Chase and Wilson had grown close during the last 8 years, not enough to where they had the friendship that House and Wilson have but close enough to consider one another friends. You'll never catch Wilson opening up to Chase, not like he does with House and most of the time even Cuddy, because he is almost always guarded but he does care about the Australian and Chase cares about him in return.

"Of course." She says with a slight head nod. She watched him turn quickly on his heel and leave, heading for Radiology, as she pulled out her cell phone to call Lucas and let him know that she'll be at the hospital late to make sure Wilson is taken care of (even though she knows that with House around he will be and then some) and to say goodnight to Rachel. Lucas offers to bring Rachel and a change of clothes to the hospital for her and wait with her but she declines saying that she shouldn't be here too much longer but she appreciates the offer and hangs up.

Cuddy heard the disappointment in Lucas' voice and she felt bad for turning him down, they were all close friends despite how things were when Cuddy and Lucas had gotten together. She almost cried after House had exited her hotel room that day at the conference. She knew she had hurt him, though he wouldn't admit it, and killed her to know that. But she was happy with Lucas and she trusted him to be there for her and Rachel more than she did House. She wasn't surprised when Wilson came up to her, more than a little annoyed with her on his friend's behalf, and slightly interrogated her but she wasn't going to back down on his nor House's account.

When House and Wilson had gotten together, at first she was wary, wondering how they'd continue to work together and what would happen if things went wrong but the more she thought about it the more she realized the all that's different between then and now is, now there's was kissing and sex. Wilson has always been the most important thing to House and vice versa and that won't ever change, even after Amber died.

Once she realized that nothing had really changed, they'd just "come out" about their relationship, she felt pure joy over take her heart for them, giving them both a hug that House shrugged off and tried to squeeze her ass before he walked out to bypass the emotional moment. She wished Wilson nothing but happiness and approached the subject of Lucas, asking if they'd like to come over for Thanksgiving dinner. He had told her that he'd discuss it with House but assured her that he was positive that they'd be there, knowing House as well as he did he was sure the diagnostician wouldn't openly admit to having a problem with it.

The holiday meal hadn't passed quietly. It involved a playful tennis match of banter between Lucas and House which immediately set Wilson and Cuddy's hearts at ease who had just sat back and watched the match. After House and Lucas had finished, both satisfied with what they had discovered about the other, Lucas turned his attention on Wilson. Though he already knew everything he wanted to about the oncologist, he still politely asked and in turn answered Wilson's questions, allowing Wilson to gently get to know him. Lucas had studied Wilson when House had hired him to track the younger man down and understood that Wilson liked to ease into things rather than barge in like House.

Slowly over the next couple of years the 4 had progressed to close friends and often got together at one of their places, mostly Cuddy's since it had a yard & room for Rachel to play in. While House and Wilson had bought the condo that Cuddy had planned on buying, they had turned it into their own place which, for now, had no room for a kid.

Cuddy breathed in a long steadying breath as she shifted in the chairs trying to find a comfortable position. It's Thanksgiving in a couple of weeks and, like last year and every year after this one, they all had planned on getting together at Cuddy's, it had become a Thanksgiving Tradition for them. While she realized that Wilson would be feeling better by then she wondered if he'd be feeling well enough to come.

Finally giving up on finding a comfortable position she stood and started wandering around the triage area, waiting for them to bring Wilson back. She began making alternate plans just in case Wilson wasn't feeling up to coming this year. One of them did include Her, Lucas and Rachel going over to their place but she didn't really count on being invited over and therefore came up with a contingency plan with a smaller meal for her family just in case.

"Dr. Cuddy." Chase's voice broke through her musings and she looked up just in time to see the nursing staff wheel Wilson back into the room he was in before. "I've already let House know and he said he'll be down after we're done with Wilson but I wanted to update you." Chase informed her.

"Ok." She prompted, waiting for him to begin listing Wilson's injuries.

"He has a small strain in his neck, a back sprain, a grade I sprained left wrist and bruised ribs on his right side." Chase summarized. "He'll need surgery to repair the damage done to his knee and ankle. From what I gather from his medical history his right ankle has been unstable since the first time he injured it." It was phrased as a statement but his tone implied a question.

"I-I don't know. I didn't know him then, House would be the one to confirm that." Cuddy told him a little shocked to hear that Wilson had a weak ankle in the first place. Now that she thought about it, it did make sense. He had often come in limping or on crutches due to spraining his ankle and it was always the right one.

Chase just nodded, "Going by the MRI results I'd say it's a good bet. The surgery should help fix this problem providing he takes care of himself and makes sure to rehabilitate it. I'm not sure he did that the first time."

Cuddy shrugged, "You know how he is. He takes care of everyone else but himself."

Chase smiled at that, "True but I'm going to make sure House makes him do it this time." He said sternly, his tone indicating that if his boss didn't make sure HE would.

Cuddy smiled at him. "I'm sure you won't have to push him too hard, if at all, to do that. You know how protective he is of Wilson. House won't allow him to neglect his health."

Chase hesitated but didn't say anything and smiled instead. "Right. Well, we're admitting Wilson for overnight observation and pain management. I know he didn't hit his head, hence the neck strain, but I also don't want him moving around too much and House won't be able to get him home by himself." He explained when she gave him a questioning look. "As you know, we'll wait for the swelling in his ankle and knee to go down before we schedule him for surgery. We're placing braces on both joints to immobilize them until we can get him in."

"Dr. Chase." A nurse called to him indicating they were ready for him.

Chase drew in a deep breath. "That's my cue. You should go home. Wilson will be fine and, no doubt, heavily drugged over night. There's nothing you can do right now."

She nodded in agreement. "True." She conceded. "Let me know if anything changes or if I need to do any House wrangling."

Chase laughed as heartily as she's ever seen the blond Australian laugh. "There'll be no need. I'm on the ER rotation for the night. I get off just before you come in, we'll be fine."

Cuddy frowned slightly. "What time did you get here?" she asked.

"I came in around 4p. I explained to House about the ER shift and he allowed me to come in later albeit not without a heckling struggle." He smiled and turned around to tend to Wilson.

Cuddy watched him walk away, not fully convinced that he was telling the truth. She was sure that Chase should have been off by now but maybe he decided to stay for House's sake. Other than herself and Wilson, Chase was the only other one who could handle House easily enough and be allowed to help him if he needed it.

She walked into her office and headed home, grateful that though Wilson would be in a lot of pain for a while he was going to be alright. She shook her head at herself. She had known he was going to be alright but being a control freak she needed to know how badly injured he was so she could know how long she'd have to clear his schedule and reassign his patients. She hung her head in shame at the truthfulness at the statement but there was no denying it. Though she was worried about her friend her administrative side took over.

Cuddy left feeling ashamed, exhausted and worried but glad to be going home, she had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

**_AN: I apologize for the short chapter but I thought it ended in a good place. Thanks so much for the reviews so far!

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**Chapter 3:**

Wilson woke to the sounds of a heart monitor and snoring, his body pleasantly free of pain. He felt a warm hand covering his own and looked to his right to see House sleeping in his recliner that somebody had apparently brought down to Wilson's room, his hand holding Wilson's.

Wilson smiled as he remembered how House had been there for him. The ride to the hospital had been torture. Every bump jostled him and sent fresh waves of agony through his body. He swore the driver had done it on purpose had it not been for the fact that they were just trying to get him to the hospital as soon as they could. None of his injuries were life threatening but it took all his might to not pass out from pain.

He knows that no one would have blamed him if he did pass out but some part of him still felt the need to be awake in case House saw him. Not only would it have given him some sort of relief knowing House was there but he wanted to make sure that House didn't overdo himself while making sure Wilson was ok. He wasn't about to tell House that though, he already knows it was a stupid notion and he should have just allowed himself to fall into pain free oblivion.

He had the sudden urge to move and try to reposition himself but even the slightest movement of his neck sent pain throughout his chest and back so he decided to stay how he was. His nose began to itch and he instinctively reached with his left hand to scratch it but ended up letting out a groan when the action sent waves of pain throughout his back and wrist.

House jerked to sitting up, giving a groan himself when it jerked his leg around. His eyes quickly focused on Wilson as he gently leaned forward, laying the arm that wasn't holding on to Wilson across his knees.

"Hey." Wilson greeted quietly.

"Hey yourself. You ok?" House asked brusquely.

"Yeah, moved when I shouldn't have." Wilson explained as his eyes looked longingly at the pitcher of water.

House noticed his gaze and poured a cup of water and added a straw to it, making it easier for Wilson to drink from.

The liquid was room temperature but it felt heavenly going down Wilson's dry throat. "Thanks" he said after he had taken a few sips. "What time is it?"

"Almost 5a. You were pretty drugged up when I got here so I pulled up a chair."

"Funny how that chair resembles the recliner from your office." Wilson replied slyly.

"Yeah, Cuddy decided to put one in every room. Yours was the first to get one." House replied smiling. He had dark circles under his eyes, there were faint lines of pain around the edges of his mouth and eyes and his eyes were bloodshot.

"You look terrible." Wilson commented. "You should go back to sleep, you need it."

House just rolled his eyes. "I look terrible? Have you taken a good look at yourself lately?" he countered.

Wilson smiled. "I have a reason for looking like crap, what's yours?"

"Oh really, what's your reason because I have yet to hear it?" House replied. Though his tone implied his usual joking matter Wilson could see the subtle hints of concern and worry etched in his lover's face.

"I fell on a patch of ice outside our apartment." He said simply.

"There wasn't any ice when I went out there this morning." House countered.

"No because someone had already shoveled and laid down salt. I'm assuming that what had melted, froze again once the temperature dropped. Or maybe they didn't get it all, I don't know. Maybe I'm just a klutz." Wilson rambled.

House eyed him before replying. "I'm voting for the klutz option. I mean, you're the only person who can fall on ice and do serious damage to yourself."

Wilson's eyes widened at this. "How seriously are we talking?" he asked, worried that he didn't actually want to know the answer.

"Oh relax will you, you'll bring the nurses in hear if you set that alarm off." House scolded while he pointed to the heart monitor. "It's not that bad but you will need surgery to repair the damage done to your knee and ankle."

"You're kidding me right?" Wilson asked shocked. He hadn't expected to need surgery. He just thought that he was just a wimp.

"Nope!" House told him. "You dislocated your knee which caused a ton of damage to the ligaments and even managed a few hairline fractures to your tib/fib and femur. Not to mention the ruptured Achilles Tendon in your ankle, along with the other ligament damage, that will need to be repaired surgically." His voice taking the tone it does when he is explaining his reasoning to an idiot, though it also bordered on angry concern.

Wilson didn't reply, instead he took a good look at himself. His left wrist was wrapped in a compression bandage and lying on top of his stomach, his knee and ankle were grossly swollen and multicolored bruising appeared on both joints. They were placed in immobilizing splints and elevated on multiple pillows. Though he couldn't see them, he knew that he had injured his back and neck but if either of those injuries had been serious House would have told him.

"How's your leg?" He asked his partner after having caught the older man rubbing his damaged thigh. House just shrugged in response which told Wilson all he needed to know. "Where's your Vicodin? Have you taken any? How about a heating pad?" Wilson rambled again. He really just wanted something else to focus on than his own pain filled body. The meds that they had him on were slowly beginning to taper out of his system and he could begin to feel the pain that screamed at him hours earlier.

"I'm fine you idiot, focus on yourself." House scolded.

"Please just answer the questions." Wilson pleaded.

House sighed, "I have the Vicodin in my pocket, it's been a few hours since I've taken it which means it's going to be time for another soon and the heating pad is in my office not that it matters to you because, even if you wanted to, you're in no position to go get it."

Since Wilson couldn't argue with House's last statement he settled for leaning his head back in to the pillows and closing his eyes. He was starting to feel the agony those call pain that radiated from his ankle and knee and he was finding it hard to ignore it. He stole a glance at the pain pump they had attached to his IV and noticed it was on a set timer and decided to wait for when it's set to go off again.

"How's your pain?" House asked.

"It's fine." Wilson answered shortly. Who was he kidding? House was going to see right through that!

"Yes, that must be why you're started to crush my hand." House countered.

Wilson immediately released House's hand in favor of squeezing the life out of his blankets. He was vaguely aware of House shuffling beside him and then he felt the wonderful warmth of pain medication sweep through his veins, tackling the pain like a footballer. He opened his eyes to see House's ocean blue eyes staring at him in concern. "Thanks." He told the older man.

House gave a barely perceptible nod, "Next time, don't wait till you need to squeeze the life out of a harmless blanket before you tell me you need it." He warned as he took Wilson's hand back in his own.

"I will, sorry about that." He apologized knowing it hurt his friend to see him in such pain.

House caressed Wilson's face with is other hand. "Stop apologizing and go back to sleep." He commanded as Wilson's eyes began to shut.

"I love you." Wilson told him before he fell into his drug induced, pain free sleep.

* * *

Cuddy walked in at 8a to find House asleep in his recliner while holding on to Wilson's hand. Wilson lay in the hospital bed looking exhausted and in pain but asleep. His left arm slung across his stomach, his back and neck supported by pillows, his knee and ankle in immobilization splints and supported by even more pillows than his back and neck.

The doors opened to admit Chase who was carrying 3 ice packs in his hands. "Good morning Dr. Cuddy." He greeted in a whisper, hoping to avoid waking either man. Without waiting for an answer he went over and placed an ice pack on Wilson's wrist, knee and ankle and then came back over to her, placing his arm around her without actually touching her, to escort her out of hearing range of the sleeping pair.

"How are they doing?" She asked once they were outside the room.

Chase ran a hand over his face, exhaustion clearly written on his face. "They're ok. House had someone move his chair into Wilson's room, so he shouldn't be doing too bad this morning. Wilson woke early this morning and was awake for about 10minutes before House triggered his next dose of meds, apparently the medicine had begun to wear off and Wilson had been in a good deal of pain."

Cuddy nodded, her eyes softening in sympathy for Wilson. She couldn't imagine being in that much pain having never injured herself that badly. She took one last appraising look at the blond surgeon before saying, "You should go home and get some rest. You look exhausted."

Chase gave a tired smile. "I managed a few hours in the doctor's lounge." He tried to dismiss her concern.

"Good, now you can go home and get more in your own bed." She insisted.

He bowed his head before giving her a nod of acquiescence and walking off to the locker room where his things were stored.

Cuddy gave one last look into the room before heading toward her office to begin another hectic day.

* * *

House woke to the feeling of someone gently but absentmindedly massaging his hand with their thumb. He looked up to find Wilson watching him with nothing but love reflecting his eyes.

"Good morning." He greeted with a pained smile.

"How long have you been watching me?" House asked slightly embarrassed to have slept longer than the injured man.

"Not long." Wilson replied. "It seems that my body doesn't know it's in the hospital and should be resting so I woke up at 630a like usual. I've been lightly dozing off and on since then."

House nodded his understanding before he checked the time on his phone. It was 9a. "How are you feeling?" He asked remembering earlier this morning.

"Ok." Wilson replied sounding a little tired.

House studied the younger man a minute before he got up and activated the pain pump again. He could see the pain taking over Wilson's eyes, filling them with slight tears that he wouldn't shed. That alone was enough to convince House that his friend needed some relief, he wasn't going to let Wilson suffer because he was too stubborn to admit that he needed the medication.

Wilson let out a small groan of relief as the medicine began working, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pillows. "How's your leg?" he asked.

"After my morning dose of Vicodin, it'll be fine." House told him, getting slightly annoyed that Wilson seemed incapable of caring about his own needs and not focusing on other's. "Do you feel up to some food? It seems that being a doctor in this hospital has its benefits. They bring you your own tray of food and everything!" He joked.

Wilson began to shake his head no but stopped with a pained grimace. "No, I'm ok. You take it."

House frowned, "You need to eat something." He suggested.

"I'm not really hungry. Stomach's a little upset from the meds. It's ok, really. I think I want a nap anyways." Wilson replied.

"If your stomach's upset from the meds, that's all the more reason to get some food into it." House pushed. "Come on, eat a little bit of toast and then I'll let you get some more rest." House hated that he was forcing this but he really didn't want Wilson getting sick because of the medicine.

"Fine." Wilson replied while glowering at House. The effect of the look was slightly dampened by his droopy eyelids and slack face.

He managed half of the toast before he practically begged House to let him sleep to which House couldn't refuse. House turned on the tv for some background noise while Wilson fell into another drug induced but pain free sleep and then began to clean up the side table a little before he settled back into his chair, keeping one eye on the tv and the other on the sleeping form of his lover. "I love you too." He whispered knowing he wasn't going to be heard.


	4. Chapter 4

**_AN: Thanks so much to those whom have reviewed, I really appreciate the feedback!

* * *

_**

**Chapter 4:**

House walked into PPTH later on that evening. He had, at Wilson's request, left to go take a shower and get some real sleep. The surgeons had come a little after breakfast to let Wilson know that they'd be performing the surgery later on that evening so Wilson told him there was no need for House to hang around and wait.

Just as he sat down in his desk chair, his phone went off. House took the phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. A message popped up from Chase, whom House had asked to be present at the surgery so he could be kept up to date with out having to actually read the surgeon's report or talk to the surgeon. The message read:

_Out of surgery. Wilson fine. Will wake up soon._

House smiled. He had the wombat trained well; updating him and telling him only what he needs or wants to know.

He got up out of his chair and limped towards Wilson's room, making a quick detour to the cafeteria to grab some dinner to eat while he waits for Wilson to wake up from the anesthesia.

* * *

When House arrived in Wilson's room, the man in question was still sleeping soundly. His ankle and knee were back in their immobilization splints to allow the staff to check the surgical sites for infection but once the chance had passed they would place most of Wilson's leg in heavy, immobilizing bandages. The leg was elevated by several pillows with ice packs on the injured joints.

House pulled up a seat, plopping down in his recliner, and began to eat his dinner while keeping his gaze on the man lying in the bed. He had just finished when he heard the heart monitor pick up pace a little and Wilson's brow furrowed. Clearly the younger man was waking up. House said nothing but waited for Wilson to clear the hazy fog that is anesthesia and focus on him.

"Hey." Wilson greeted with a sleepy smile on his face.

House grabbed Wilson's hand, enclosing it with his own. "Hey." He greeted in return, offering a warm smile. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently while searching his lover's face for signs of pain or distress, he found none.

"Pretty good right now but we'll see how I'm doing when the anesthesia wears off." Wilson conceded while he gave House's hand a light squeeze. "I see you took my advice and went home and got some rest and a shower."

"Well I wasn't about to hang around here waiting for you to get out of surgery." House quipped. "Can you imagine how boring that would be?" Wilson gave a tired smile, his eyes showed the humor he felt but was too tired to express. "Get some rest, you need it." House urged.

Wilson lightly squeezed House's hand again and gave the diagnostician a blink, letting his eyes nod for him, before he fell deeply asleep. House leaned back in his chair, still holding on to Wilson's hand, and fell asleep as well knowing he'd wake up when Wilson did.

* * *

Cuddy was about to leave for the day but she wanted to check on Wilson (and House) first. She'd been informed about Wilson's surgery and that it went well; Chase had known to keep her as informed as he does House.

She walked in to find House rubbing his thigh, pain written crisply in his eyes. "How is he?" she asks.

"He's fine, sleeping like a log." House answered, still rubbing.

"How are you?" she asked pointedly.

"Leg's stiffened up." He responded, not even bothering to try to lie because he knows she'd see right through it.

"Why don't you go take a walk?" She suggested. "I'll stay here with him in case he wakes up." Though she knew that Wilson certainly didn't need someone to be with him 24/7, she also knew that it wasn't Wilson's need that kept House there.

House hated being useless and in this instance that's what he felt like, unable to do anything but watch his friend sleep. At least if he's there when Wilson wakes up he may be able to get Wilson more pain meds. She also knew it was killing his thigh to be in one position for so long and wanted to give him a chance to stretch it.

House gave Wilson's sleeping form one long look before he nodded his consent at the idea, got up and left without saying a word. She knew he wouldn't be gone long.

Cuddy went and pulled up one of the hard plastic chairs that reside in every patient room in the hospital. She sat on Wilson's right side knowing that's the side he'd check first and since his left wrist was still injured, albeit exponentially less than his knee and ankle, his right hand was the only hand someone could hold on to and not hurt him.

Instinctively she reached out and gently grabbed his hand. She wanted to offer some form of comfort to her friend and this was the only way she could think of to do it.

Wilson inhaled deeply, knitting his brows together, and turned his head to the side of the warmth on his hand.

"Hey." Cuddy greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty." Wilson replied, taking his hand out of hers to scrub it over his face.

Cuddy stood up and filled a plastic cup of water and placed a straw in it before placing the cup in his hand. He smiled gratefully at her and took a long welcoming drink before handing the cup back to her. He began to shift around uncomfortably, his face paling slightly as he did so.

She walked over to the bed and helped him to get relatively comfortable again while trying to keep him as still as she could. It was a chore in and of itself but between the two of them they managed to do it and even managed to raise the head of the bed a little as well.

"Where's House? I'm surprised you were able to get him to leave." Wilson asked after he had settled back against the pillows.

"His leg was stiffening up so I told him to stretch it while I stayed here with you." She told him, watching his forehead crease in concern.

"You don't have to stay, I'm sure you need to get home to Rachel and Lucas." He answered, giving her permission to leave if she wanted to.

"They'll be fine for a little while longer." Cuddy said, perfectly fine with staying with him. They sat in silence for a little while until she decided to breach the subject of Thanksgiving. She knew it wasn't the best time but it would give them something to talk about and it would keep her from asking him how he was feeling again which she was sure he didn't want to answer. "So, I was thinking." She started. "I don't know how you'll be feeling in a couple of weeks but if you and House would prefer to stay home and have your own Thanksgiving, that'd be understandable." She prompted.

Wilson gave her a warming smiling, "I appreciate the thought but I'm sure I'll be fine enough to come over and do nothing but eat and watch Rachel play."

Cuddy laughed at his meaning, "True. It's not exactly a stressful holiday is it? Although, you won't be allowed to help with the cooking this year like you were last year."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll have a problem with that restriction." He chuckled slightly.

"What restriction?" House asked as he came into the room.

"We were just discussing Thanksgiving." Cuddy told him.

House stayed silent for a while before turning his attention to Wilson. "Are you sure you'll be up to it?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Like I told Cuddy, it's not exactly like there's much physicality in it besides sitting at the table and eating." The younger man assured his friend with the practiced ease of a people pleaser.

House continued to stare at his partner with an expression of trying to catch him lying but merely nodded and went to stand at the foot of the bed.

Cuddy took that as her cue to move. So she stood up and dragged her chair down the open spot at the corner end of Wilson's bed so she was still on his right side but made room for House to sit in his recliner as well.

House sat down in his seat and eyed Wilson critically. "How long has it been since the meds wore off?" He asked accusingly.

Wilson blushed, though whether it was from embarrassment or annoyance Cuddy couldn't tell. "About 5 minutes and don't activate it yet." He commanded. "I'm fine for now."

House gave him a look that clearly said _LIAR_ but instead of calling Wilson out on it, he opted for grabbing the younger man's hand instead, allowing Wilson to squeeze his hand as opposed to the blankets.

"So when will you be getting out of here?" Cuddy asked, trying to distract Wilson from the pain he was obviously feeling. Now that she really looked at him she could see the signs that House had seen. The crows feet in the corners of his eyes were showing but from pain and not laughter like they normally did and his hand was squeezing whatever it held on to tight enough to whiten his knuckles, but the most telling thing was the amount of pain the poured out of his chocolate brown eyes. She felt her heart clench painfully at the sight.

"I'll be released tomorrow providing I don't develop a fever until then." Wilson told her.

"How much leave do you want to take?"

"Not long, maybe a couple of weeks." He answered making Cuddy smile. Wilson was never one to take sick days, let alone leaves of absence. He hated being away from his patients for too long and they didn't like seeing any other doctor.

"Why don't you come back after the Thanksgiving holiday?" She suggested thinking it would give him long enough to heal while not keeping him away from work for too long either.

Wilson rolled his eyes slightly (he'd been hanging around House for too long). "Fine." He conceded.

Cuddy laughed inwardly. If he could have, her Head of Oncology would be pouting right now. "Well, I should go. I'll see you two tomorrow." She said as she walked over to Wilson's left, bent down and gave him a small kiss on the forehead. "Get some rest and if he," she pointed at House, "bothers you, throw him out." She joked.

Wilson gave a painful laugh. "Thanks but I'm sure I'll be able to handle him." He assured while she headed to the door. "Say Hi to Lucas and Rachel for me."

She nodded. "I will." She told him before she left, allowing House and Wilson some time alone.

* * *

Wilson watched Cuddy leave with relief. He was really starting to hurt but he didn't want to be groggy while she was there. He painfully turned his head back to House, trying his hardest not to break his friend's hand.

"Do you want me to activate the meds now?" House asked, reading his mind.

"Please." Wilson answered, cringing at how much the word came out sounding like a desperate plea.

House turned around and pressed the button then quickly turned back around and began caressing Wilson's face, trying to offer some form of comfort until the meds kicked in.

Wilson closed his eyes, letting the sensation of House's hand on his face do what it's supposed to do and let out a groan of relief at House's touch and the feeling of medicine beating down the pain to a more bearable level. He opened his eyes to stare gratefully at his partner. "How's your leg? Cuddy said it was stiff."

"Yeah, too much sitting. It's fine." House replied shortly, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"Did you at least go to your office and grab the heating pad?" Wilson scolded.

"I grabbed that while you were in surgery." House countered indignantly.

"Good." Wilson smiled. "So, pizza and beer?" he suggested playfully.

House chuckled, "Sorry, none for you. For now you're stuck with water and a sandwich."

"That's just boring." Wilson commented though not looking at all disappointed with the information. "So where is it?" He asked after he looked around and saw nothing.

"Ate it." House answered.

"You ate my sandwich?" Wilson asked while laughing.

"Technically, I ate my sandwich. If you want one you'll have to get one of those doting nurses to grab one for you." House teased. The nursing staff that still went out of their way to get Wilson whatever he needed, even when he wasn't a patient, even though they knew he was with House was a constant joke between them.

Wilson waved his hand lazily, "Nah, that's ok. I'm not really hungry."

House nods. "Well, let's see what's on tv shall we?" He suggests while he turns on the tv and changes the channel to the Discovery Channel.

Wilson is close to falling asleep and therefore wouldn't object to House watching The L Word. He stiffly turns his head to the tv and lazily watches, not bothering to try to keep his eyes open.

House turns his head to look at Wilson, lips turned up in a smile when he notices the man in question is asleep and snoring softly. House leans down and kisses Wilson's forehead before settling himself against his recliner and is soon asleep himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Wednesday, late afternoon, House and Wilson walked into their apartment. Well, House limped and pushed Wilson in the wheelchair the hospital had loaned them. Wilson's back and neck weren't fully healed yet and therefore not able to support him on crutches but since he, nor the doctors, thought it'd be much longer til they were Cuddy had OK'd a loan on the wheelchair but they still billed them for the crutches.

Once they were inside, Wilson insisted on pushing his own wheelchair around (he has had experience with this) so that House wouldn't have to do it anymore. By pushing the wheelchair, House had to forego using his cane which put more pressure on his bad leg and made Wilson feel guilty. It hurt his back and neck to push himself around but not nearly as bad as it hurt House so he dealt with the pain happily.

Wilson was pushing himself into the kitchen when House's voice stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?" House asked.

"To get some dinner going. Once we are in that bed we won't be moving again for awhile and I thought it'd be nice to have some food in our stomach's before we do." Wilson answered logically.

"Uh-uh. Bed." House commanded with a point of his finger. "I'll order us some dinner when we start getting hungry but YOU are going to go get in bed and stay there."

"House, I'm fine. I feel fine." Wilson tried to argue.

"You feel fine because you've just taken your oxycodone. Once that wears off, you won't feel so fine." House countered.

Wilson couldn't argue with that logic so he didn't try. He knew the only reason he was able to move around comfortably right now was because of the pain medicine he had taken before he left the hospital. When the medicine starts to wear off it's like a freight train of pain slamming into him though it is getting better, albeit slowly. He can't wait til he's more mobile, the days of sitting around the house doing nothing are going to get old fast. "Fine!" He conceded as he threw up his arms with a wince and began to wheel himself into the bedroom.

House didn't bother asking if he needed help, just followed Wilson into the bedroom and waited until the younger man had sat himself down on the bed before gently grabbing his injured leg and placing it on the bed. He went and grabbed some spare pillows from the hall closet and placed them under Wilson's leg, giving an image of a pillow hill.

Wilson clenched his teeth and bit his lip while House helped him. The movement of his injured leg was painful, even with the help of pain medicine, but he knew House was only trying to help so he tried to keep quiet about his pain. Besides, he's pretty sure that House lives with his kind of pain, or worse, daily and therefore he had no right to complain.

House had helped Wilson to sit up in bed with another, albeit smaller, mound of pillows supporting his sore back and neck and then went to his side of the bed and crawled in, sitting close enough to Wilson for their bodies to touch but far enough away that he wouldn't hurt his friend. Wilson let out a contented groan.

"Better?" House inquired.

"Yeah." Wilson answered. "Believe it or not that wheel chair is only comfortable for so long."

"I believe it." House replied shortly.

Wilson had forgotten that House has been quite familiar with wheelchairs in the past. "And it's nice to finally be home too." He added. "Now I can do with you what I want."

House raised an eyebrow at that before slightly tipping his head sideways. "Nope sorry. No strenuous activity for you for at least a week."

"Aw, come on." Wilson all but whined. "Besides, it's not strenuous." He purred while he began to rub House's left thigh.

House groaned both in pleasure and frustration as he grabbed Wilson's hand and placed it back in his own lap. "You may not think it's strenuous but your body thinks otherwise."

Wilson crossed his arms, wincing when it put pressure on his mildly sprained wrist, and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. In truth he didn't think he was ready for anything strenuous but that didn't stop him from trying.

House noticed the wince. "How's the wrist?"

"It's fine, doesn't even really hurt." Wilson replied while he grabbed the book of the bedside table and began to read.

House didn't reply merely mimicked Wilson's actions and grabbed his latest copy of JAMA off his bedside table and began to read.

They read until House became hungry and ordered some take-out. They ate in bed, much to Wilson's objection, and after House had cleaned up and changed he helped Wilson get changed into sweats and a t-shirt then threw a blanket over him. House grabbed the heating pad that he kept in the drawer of the bedside table and plugged it in then applied it to his thigh. He took a couple Vicodin before he settled down in bed, semi-cuddling with Wilson, making sure to not disturb his injured leg.

Wilson threw an arm around House and pulled him in as close as he could get. He hoped the next few weeks passed quickly for both his and House's sake.

* * *

Their silver Volvo pulled up in front of Cuddy and Lucas' house. House turned to Wilson. "Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked.

Wilson heaved a heavy sigh. "House, we've gone over this. I'm fine and I've been looking forward to this for two weeks." He said rather impatiently. It's Thanksgiving Day and after being holed up at home for the passed two weeks, Wilson was experiencing anxiety from cabin fever, he NEEDED to get out of the house and be with people other than House.

"You're not fine." House countered though he didn't argue with the fact that Wilson wanted to go.

"You're right, I'm not. But I'm not going to hurt myself by going in, being with friends and eating dinner." Wilson argued.

"You never know with Tweedle Dumb running around." House argued back.

Wilson laughed at House's nickname for Rachel. "House, I appreciate your concern but Rachel isn't going to hurt me either. Now can we please go in before we're late?"

House smiled. That's Wilson, always on time, always prim and proper. "Fine." He said as he got out of the car, walked around and grabbed Wilson's crutches from the backseat and opened Wilson's door. "But you had better let me know when you're hurting and no waiting til it's almost unbearable, I know you didn't bring your meds with you tonight." He lectured and warned at the same time.

Wilson just smiled at him lovingly, "I will, I promise." He said as he worked his injured leg out of the car and then his healthy one. House offered a helping hand that Wilson took gratefully and pulled himself up to a standing position. He grimaced when his ankle and knee started their dull throb that he had become accustomed to whenever he didn't have them elevated.

He grabbed the crutches from House and began his slow walk up to Cuddy's door, House following closely beside him. The only downside, that Wilson could see, to Cuddy's house is the few steps that one needed to get up to get to the door. The first couple were where the sidewalk in front of the house connected to the path to the house and the last was to the actual door.

Wilson had managed to navigate the first couple of steps easily, but having used a good portion of his short burst of energy to get up them and then the seemingly long walk to the door, he was finding it hard to get up the last step as seamlessly as he had the first two. His injured foot caught the step, jerking it downward slightly and shooting pain up his leg.

Somehow he managed to stay upright and not yell out in pain but his breath hitched noticeably and he clenched his teeth together.

"You ok?" House asked, not missing anything that concerned Wilson.

Wilson gave him a nod and a shake at the same time while waiting for the pain to calm down which he knew would happen soon, that wasn't the first time he'd done something like that and it more than likely wouldn't be the last. "I'll be ok." He assured. "Let's knock shall we?"

House scrutinized him but said nothing and opted for knocking instead. He was just about to knock again, slightly impatient to get Wilson sitting down, when the door opened to reveal Cuddy looking beautiful in a pair of nice jeans and a stylish sweater.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" She greeted as she moved out of the way for the two men to come in.

"Happy Thanksgiving Lisa." Wilson greeted in return, giving her a warm smile. "How are you?"

"I'm good. How are you doing?" She asked, sympathy and concern in her voice.

Wilson cringed at the notes of sympathy in her voice but House answered for him. "He needs to sit down." He said without explaining why he was particularly anxious for that to happen right now. Wilson just glared at him.

"Really? I was just going to have him help out in the kitchen." Cuddy retorted while pointing towards the kitchen. Even as she deadpanned her retort she led them into the living room, Vivaldi in the background.

"If you need help, I'm more than willing to do it." Wilson replied hopefully. Even though he was able to move around better, House had still been restricting him on what he could do and refused to let the oncologist cook which, aside from his job and House, was one of his main passions in life.

"No you won't!" Both Cuddy and House sternly replied at once, causing a smile to creep on Wilson's face.

"Lucas and I have dinner taken care of." Cuddy assured him. "Your main job is to sit around, eat and enjoy yourself as much as you can." She told him while motioning to the couch before she walked away to join Lucas in the kitchen.

House stepped up to Wilson, waiting for the younger man to hand him his crutches so he could begin to sit down. He placed the crutches against the wall behind the couch, making sure they're out of the way yet accessible.

Wilson lowered himself stiffly onto the couch. His neck had healed quickly and without lasting affects but his back was still stiff and twinged slightly if he moved too fast. The feeling wasn't new to Wilson, having had a bad back for years due to sleeping on too many hard and lumpy couches, chairs or beds, but that didn't make the sensation any less annoying. He kept his leg on the floor, stretched out before him, and leaned back into the comforting softness of the couch.

House sat down next to him. "You should put your leg on the coffee table."

Wilson looked at the table in front of him. It was a beautiful, solid cherry wood table that was tastefully decorated without overcrowding it. It wasn't too wide which wasn't a necessity considering half a person's leg length was absorbed by the couch and the space between the couch and the table.

He seriously considered the idea but he quickly dismissed it. Not only did he not want to use one of Cuddy's throw pillows to put his foot on, he also didn't want to put too much pressure on his knee by not supporting it with a pillow. "Nah," he said, "I'll be ok."

House scoffed but said nothing while Cuddy came back with a bottle of wine, 2 glasses and a glass of water. She knew that House had no problem mixing alcohol and pain medicine but Wilson wouldn't have it. She handed him the glass of water while House poured the wine.

"You should put your leg up." She told Wilson. House and Wilson chuckled, confusing her. "Did I miss a joke?" she asked, smiling.

"No." Wilson assured her. "House just told me the same thing and I already told him I'd be fine until we eat."

"Which should be very soon." Cuddy replied when she saw Lucas bringing the food from the kitchen and setting it on the table. "You two go in and sit down, I'm gonna grab Rachel." They began to stand up. "Oh!" she said turning to look at House before she exited. She tossed a pillow at him that he caught with ease, a confused look on his face. "And make sure he uses one of the spare chairs and puts his leg up on it."

House sneered at her. "Yes ma'am." He said, giving her a mock salute.

"That's really not necessary." Wilson argued, not wanting a fuss made over him.

"Actually it is." She told him. She left before he could say anything else, clearly not wanting to argue about it.

"Let's go gimpy!" House called to him from the dining room.

"Limping twerp." Wilson grumbled lovingly before he made his way into the dining room.

* * *

The meal passed surprisingly quietly for a group of 4 and a toddler. They all made small talk but kept relatively focused on the food on their plates. They had made the traditional turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. They also made baked sweet potatoes with cinnamon butter to go with them as well as crescent rolls. It had been delicious!

When they were all pleasantly full, Lucas started gathering plates and depositing them in the kitchen while Cuddy took Rachel out of her high chair and let her go run off and play.

"Do you need help with the clean up?" Wilson offered.

Cuddy merely gave him a look and said, "No, we've got it. I've told you what your role will be here tonight." She then turned to House, "You, however, CAN help."

"But mom!" House whined. "Little Jimmy needs some babysitting and my leg hurts!"

"Your leg always hurts and Wilson doesn't need a babysitter, I'll be with him. You and Lucas are going to clean up." She told him.

"Why do you get out of clean up duty?" House argued.

"Because I'm the one who set up and cooked." She said with finality.

House stared at her defiantly before getting up and heading to the kitchen to help Lucas. Wilson looked at her, "I really am able to help you know and I don't mind doing it."

Cuddy waved her hand dismissively, "He'll be fine. It'll be good for him to help clean up."

"He's been doing nothing but cleaning up and cooking for the passed two weeks. I think he's fed up with it." Wilson told her sadly. He felt bad for making House do all of the housework lately but some of it was House's fault since he wouldn't let Wilson help him.

"A little bit of housework for a few weeks won't kill him considering you do it all the rest of the time by yourself." She assured. "Come on, let's go sit in the comfortable chairs in the living room." She prompted, handing him his crutches.

They walked slowly to the living room, Wilson grimacing every time his healthy leg made contact with the floor and sending vibrations of pain into his injured one. He was about to sit in one of the armchairs when Cuddy stopped him.

"Nope! You're sprawling out on the couch with pillows underneath your leg. Your ankle and knee have got to be throbbing with the lack of elevation." She reasoned.

"They're fine." Wilson replied, unable to hide a grimace that contradicted his last statement. "Besides, I shouldn't take up the entire couch. I'll be fine if I rest it on the table."

"Just sit down on the couch." She commanded gently but firmly. "I know that resting it on the table would put pressure on your knee which it doesn't need so stay here while I go grab a few extra pillows."

Wilson settled himself on the left side of the couch, allowing him to place his right leg on the couch while still making room for House to sit down with him. For now, he left his leg on the floor, his foot underneath the table. The dull throb from his knee and ankle had kicked up to a sharp and painful throb. He looked down and noticed that his foot had started to swell slightly and he groaned. _Too much time not elevating it _he concluded knowing that it would be hard to keep from Cuddy or House.

Cuddy came back with three pillows in her arms, placing them on the armchair while she waited for Wilson to scoot back and place his leg on the couch. She proceeded to place her hand in the middle of his calf and gently lift his leg, placing the pillows under it. Wilson saw her frown when she noticed his slightly swollen foot. "Do you want some ice?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks." He answered, knowing that he didn't have his pain meds and the ice would help numb the injured joints.

She nodded and walked away. The way she had her living room set up, he was able to see everything even though he was lying lengthwise on the couch. She had pushed the couch up against a wall, positioning the couch to be allowed it's occupant(s) to see the dining room, kitchen, and if someone should come from the area of the bedrooms with ease.

It didn't surprise Wilson that House was the one who emerged from the kitchen carrying two ice packs wrapped in kitchen towels. Of course Cuddy would tell him about the swelling and of course House would want to come out and examine it for himself. House had become more protective of Wilson's health since the accident and while the emotion touched his heart it also annoyed him at times, making him feel like House thought he was fragile enough to break.

House placed the first pack on Wilson's knee and then placed the next one on his ankle before he gently fingered the foot.

Wilson tried not to wince but some of the probing placed pressure on sore or still healing muscle or ligaments. "House, I'm fine. It's just from not keeping my leg elevated." He said, sounding more tired than he liked.

House moved away from his foot and sat down on the coffee table across from Wilson, studying him. "We should get you home after the ice takes affect."

"No!" Wilson objected instantly. "I'll be fine and we're having a good time."

"You're in pain." House countered like that would make Wilson change his mind immediately.

"So, you're always in pain and you're not wanting to leave early." Wilson argued.

Wilson heard the familiar rattle of the Vicodin bottle. "Took my tic tacs. You, however, don't have your meds with you."

"You didn't bring them?" Cuddy's voiced asked sounding shocked.

Both men winced not having realized Cuddy had rejoined them. "Yeah, I left them at home. I didn't think I'd need them." Wilson explained while giving House a pointed look.

"I have some Percocet left over from when Lucas broke his wrist a few months ago." She offered. Upon seeing him about to argue she added, "Wilson, it's obvious you're in pain. You don't have to take the Percocet but at least let me get you some Aleve. It won't be as strong but it will help." Her words were bargaining but logical but her tone was pleading him to let her help.

"If you have Aleve, that'd be fine. Thanks." He conceded while House still stared at him intently.

They stared at each other until Cuddy came back with a glass of water and two Aleve. She handed both to Wilson while House got up and walked back into the kitchen to continue with dishes.

"Thanks." Wilson said after he'd taken the medicine. "I'm sorry you heard that. House has been a little to overprotective lately. He pounces like a cat if I'm in any pain."

"That's sweet that he cares that much." Cuddy told him.

"Yeah but it can get annoying after awhile. I mean, he's in worse pain than I am and he doesn't demand to be babied."

"True but you aren't normally in pain so it's a new thing for him. It screws with the balance of his universe for you come close to feeling the kind of pain he experiences daily. He doesn't like it." She explained.

"Yeah, I guess." He said, pausing for a minute or two before he continued. "It's just that when I was helping him after the infarction, he kept wishing I could feel the pain he felt and now that I can, somewhat, he tries to do his best to stop it. I know that most of the time he didn't mean what he was saying but there were times when the pain was so bad that he would say it, and normally I'd ignore him, but I could see the truth in his eyes that he truly wished that it was me in his place."

Cuddy sat stunned for a bit. This revelation wasn't new in any way, shape or form. She knew that House had wished his pain on Wilson MANY times while Wilson was helping him but she also knew that he didn't mean it. He wouldn't wish his pain on any one, especially not his best friend and now lover. Yet Wilson actually believed he did and refused to take his medication just so he could understand what his friend and partner goes through daily.

She reached her hand out and laid it on his which rested on the thigh of his left leg. "He would NEVER wish that kind of pain on you." She told him. "I'm sure that, at the time, he may have but it wasn't because he wanted you to hurt, it was because he wanted not to. It kills him when he sees you hurting and while, yes, the pain from your injuries isn't quite as bad as the pain from missing half his thigh, I'm sure it comes close and it hurts him to know that. That's why he's so protective of you and wants to make sure you're taking your medicine."

Wilson blushed and bowed his head in an attempt at hiding the tears that had welled up in his eyes. "I'm fairly certain that what I feel doesn't compare to what he feels. Besides, I know that once my injuries heal, I'll be fine. Sure, they'll probably ache more when it gets cold but he'll still experience agony daily. I have no right to complain."

"James." She said his first name to make sure he listened. "You aren't complaining when you ask for some relief. It's your right as a human being to be pain free. You being in pain won't help him any. I know that you don't like it when people make a fuss or put you in the spotlight but sitting here refusing to ask for or take pain medicine is pointless and it hurts us to know that you're hurting. You are allowed to take care of yourself you know?" She ended her friendly, albeit serious, lecture with a joking scold.

"I know. It just comes more natural to me to take care of everyone else first." He said before taking a deep breath and plastering on a big smile.

Cuddy turned around to see House and Lucas walking in with a pot of coffee and 4 cups. Clearly the touching moment had ended with the two men joining them.

* * *

**_AN: The way Wilson views himself in pain is the way I would see it were it me in this situation. _**

**_AN2: Thank you for the reviews, I hope you continue to let me know what you think!  
_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

"Wilson!" Cuddy called after him. Wilson had just managed to escape the clinic and unintentionally groaned when she called to him. "Are you ok?" she asked referring to his heavy limp.

"I'm fine. Some kid kicked my knee while I examined his mother." He explained. "I was just heading to my office to do some paperwork and get off of it for a little while." He added when she didn't make a move to go away.

It had been 6 weeks since his fall on the ice and he had just gotten away from having to use any aide in walking. He still had a slight limp since his muscles weren't fully up to strength yet but he guessed that after another couple of weeks at physical therapy he'd be good to go. Though his doctors had advised it, he stopped using his knee and ankle brace. Both were uncomfortable and he didn't like the attention he got from wearing the one for his knee, though in hindsight, today it might have come in handy.

"Oh, I'll walk with you." She said as she started matching his stride, a little too easily for his comfort. "I wanted to make sure you two were still coming tomorrow. Rachel is very excited to see you."

The cloud of annoyance that covered Wilson from the pain in his knee dissipated slightly and he managed to smile genuinely at her. "Of course we'll be there. Noon right?" He asked, confirming the time that House and he were to be at her place for Christmas dinner.

"Yep." She confirmed as they walked in to his office. "Well," she said as he sat himself down behind his desk. "I'll let you get some work done. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm ok thanks. We'll bring the wine tomorrow." He told her. She gave him a nod and then walked out.

Wilson let the grimace that he'd been trying not to show come onto his face, rubbing his right thigh. _Great, now I'm like house!_ He joked to himself. His knee was throbbing painfully and he could use an ice pack but he wasn't about to ask his boss to get it for him, even if she is his friend as well.

He decided to go to the diagnostics department and grab one of theirs that they kept in the freezer in case they decided to punch each other again. This way he could check on House as well as ice his knee.

He slowly stood up, wincing when he flexed his leg, and began his slow limp to the offices next door. The conference room was, thankfully, empty so he hobbled over to the freezer and pulled out the ice pack. It had begun to get harder to put weight on his leg and had resulted in him leaning heavily on whatever was available; in the hallway it was the wall, in the conference room it was currently the glass table.

"What happened to you?" a familiar, concerned voice asked.

Wilson pivoted around, grimacing at the pain that shot through his leg. "Kid in the clinic kicked me."

House stood in the doorway of his office, leaning slightly on his cane. "That doesn't usually lead to you hobbling around the conference room."

"It does when he kicked in just the right spot." Wilson countered, one hand balancing himself on the conference table and the other holding the ice pack.

House winced in sympathy for Wilson knowing he meant that the kid kicked him right at the surgical site where the ligaments, muscles and tendons were still healing. He tossed Wilson his cane and jerked his head backwards, indicating Wilson should follow him into his office.

Wilson caught the cane with surprising ease and hobbled into the office with House, who silently ushered him into the recliner with a nod towards it. He let out a sigh of relief when he sat down and put his leg on the ottoman, finally able to keep weight off his leg. He was about to place the ice pack on his knee when House grabbed his hand with a shake of his head.

"I want to look at it first." He explained.

"House, it's fine. A little bit of ice, a little bit of rest and I'll be as good as new tomorrow." Wilson placated.

House skeptically took him at his word. "Fine, but I will examine it tonight and you will get your own cane." He warned.

"Fine, I'll get one after I'm done here." Wilson conceded.

"Nope." House contradicted while he busily typed on his phone. "Chase is already bringing you one." At Wilson's exasperated eye roll he added, "Be glad I'm not making you use crutches."

"Fine, matching canes it is. We'll look so cute." Wilson replied with a small smile.

"Pffft," House scoffed, "I'll always be cuter than you."

"Yes, that's why I always have dozens of nurses coddling me." Wilson snarked with a wide grin.

House didn't reply, just gave a wide smile. The door opened to reveal Chase holding the cane that Wilson keeps, and tries to hide, in his office. He handed the oncologist the cane without comment and then left.

House nodded towards his knee. "How's it feel?"

"Better." Wilson replied. "The ice has started to numb it which means I need to get back to my office. I don't want a ton of paperwork to do when we come back Monday morning."

"Not a problem." House told him.

Before Wilson could ask what House meant Chase had walked back in pushing a cart with stacks of blue folders on it, positioning it next to House's recliner, allowing Wilson easy access to the files without having to move too much.

"Thanks Chase." House told the Australian, who gave a small nod in reply and left. "I know you don't have any patients and have finished your clinic duty. Cuddy called and said she'd find someone else to cover your rounds for the day so you're officially done with the exception of the paperwork which I'd prefer you do here so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't injure yourself further."

Wilson just sat with his mouth agape, not knowing how to respond. "Come here." He said finally. When House had entered acceptable range, he grabbed the older man and pulled him down for a deep, grateful kiss. "Thank You." He said, his chocolate brown eyes reflecting his gratitude.

"No need to thank me. I'm just ensuring that you can make me dinner tonight." House replied, uncomfortable with too much emotion.

"Of course." Wilson replied, knowing that while it was probably part of the reason, it wasn't the main one. He grabbed the ice pack that he had discarded so he could stand up and replaced it back on his knee which had begun to throb again. The straight position it was in wasn't comfortable but since he didn't have a spare pillow handy he dealt with it.

He was on his second patient file when he felt something soft and fluffy smack into his head, ruffling his hair. He smiled when a pillow covered his file and looked up to find House limping back into the conference room to confer with his team.

He placed the patient file aside and gently lifted his leg, placing the pillow under his knee and taking pressure off the injured joint. He let out a moan of pleasure at the relief he found and then quickly went back to his patient file.

House may not come right out and say that he cares but Wilson knows that it's the little things that count.

* * *

The next day they walked up to Cuddy's door and knocked. Wilson held the bottle of wine and gifts while House had brought something stronger "just in case". Lucas opened the door, beckoning them in and Rachel had come running to Wilson, grabbing ahold of the closest leg she could get (which happened to be his right one) and squeezed, clearly overjoyed to see him. Having worked with many kids, Wilson was good with them and he liked Rachel even if House didn't.

Wilson gasped and hissed audibly enough for the adults to hear but said nothing about her death grip on his still throbbing knee. He tried to take some pressure off it without kicking Rachel off by slightly lifting his leg.

Lucas quickly grabbed Rachel, pulling her as gently as he could off Wilson's leg with an apologetic look. "Sorry, she's been so excited since we told her you were coming over for Christmas that she's been extra energetic."

Wilson winced and clenched his teeth when it ended up being Lucas pulling on Rachel who ended up dragging her hands across his knee, pulling the joint forward with more force than it liked. "It's ok, I'm glad to see her too." He said, giving Rachel a warm smile.

"Come play with me!" Rachel demanded giving Wilson a pleading look while being held in her father's arms.

"Not right now sweetheart, maybe later ok?" Lucas pacified. He put Rachel down and watched her run off toward the play room. "Let's sit down shall we?" He suggested with a sigh and a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

House and Wilson handed Lucas the gifts they had brought and took off their coats, placing them on the coat rack that sat next to the door. They made quite the pair, both limping into the living room, one more heavily than the other.

House all but collapsed into the couch and placed his feet on top of the coffee table while Wilson slowly and gingerly lowered himself onto it, placing only his injured leg on the table. It wasn't a particularly comfortable position for his knee but he knew it wouldn't be any more comfortable with his leg on the floor so he opted for elevation over comfort.

Cuddy came in wearing a black dress and carrying the bottle of whine that Wilson had brought and 3 glasses.

Wilson stood up to greet her, trying to avoid putting as much weight on his leg as possible. "Merry Christmas Lisa."

"Happy Hanukkah." She greeted in kind and pulled him into a gentle hug. She pulled back with a frown on her face. "Is your knee still bothering you?" She asked, noticing his precarious stance.

"It's fine. Just a little sore." He replied dismissively, hoping House would keep his mouth shut.

"Your rug rat grabbed a hold and squeezed as hard as she could." House intervened causing Wilson to send him a glare.

Cuddy's face went from guilt to apologetic. "I'm so sorry about that. She's been super-hyper lately. Do you need some ice or something?"

Wilson was about to say no when House replied for him. "Yes." Wilson turned to his partner. "I can answer for myself you know?" He scolded while Cuddy left to grab the ice.

"You were about to say "no" which isn't the right answer so I thought I'd answer for you." House dismissed while grabbing his lover's hand and giving it a light squeeze. It was House's sign of _I'm just concerned and trying to help._

Wilson sighed and smiled at his friend before he leaned in for a kiss. "Thank you." He said after he had pulled back, ending the kiss.

Cuddy came back with an ice pack in her hands, handing it to Wilson before she sat down in one of the armchairs across from the couch.

* * *

They sat together, chatting amicably until Lucas came in saying dinner was ready. Cuddy left to get Rachel while Lucas led the way to the dining room, House on his heels and Wilson not far behind. The ice had done its job and his knee had felt better, if not a little stiff.

The meal was delicious and most of it was spent either eating or entertaining Rachel who hadn't taken her attention away from Wilson longer than a few minutes. He didn't mind and tried to keep her entertained while he secretly kept flexing his leg, trying to keep his sore knee from getting stiff.

Once they were done, he automatically got up and began clearing the table while Lucas and House went into the living room. This time it was his and Cuddy's turn to clean up and he didn't mind. Cuddy cleared away the dishes and put away the leftovers while Wilson started dishes, shifting his stance every once in awhile to give his knee a brief break.

"Why don't you go sit down? I've got the rest." Cuddy offered, having noticed the way he kept changing position.

Wilson smiled in appreciation. "I'm ok, besides we're almost done."

Just then Rachel ran in. "Come play with me!" she demanded while tugging on his shirt.

He laughed, "Give me another 5 minutes and then I will, ok?" She nodded but instead of leaving, she parked herself on one of the kitchen chairs and waited for him to finish.

Cuddy leaned in with a smile on her face. "I think you've got an admirer." She joked.

Wilson chuckled, "I think so too."

They finished with the dishes and cleaned up the counters and stove. Rachel, who had watched him the entire time, stood up and quietly waited for him to follow her to the play room.

He gave Cuddy a "I did promise her" look and then followed her to the play room, gently lowering himself onto the floor and grabbing a pillow from off the couch behind him and placing it under his knee which had begun to throb painfully again.

Wilson didn't know how long he'd been in there but he felt his muscles start to stiffen up so he suggested they join the others in the living room to give himself an opportunity to stretch. Rachel agreed, albeit reluctantly, and waited for him to get off the floor which had become a handicapped 3-step process.

There were toys scattered all over the room so he had to be careful of where he stepped and had managed it until Rachel stopped in front of him and began to try to walk around him, having evidently forgotten something. In an effort to get out of the way, he stepped to the left causing him to support his weight on his hurt knee. Before he had time to register what a bad idea it was, his left foot stepped on a toy car and slipped out from under him, twisting his foot and already painful knee.

His fall to the ground was smooth and quick and he landed with a carpeted _thud_ and a small cry of pain. Hey lay there perfectly still for a moment before he attempted to sit up. His back twinged and his knee screamed but he still managed to get himself into a sitting position, leaning against the couch.

Cuddy came in to see what was going on, her ears used to listening for signs of distress from her child. She looked around the room frantically before she noticed Rachel sitting on the floor playing quietly. She then turned her attention on Wilson, her eyes widening in surprise and concern when she noticed his brow furrowed in pain, a tear silently flowing down his cheek and his hands gripping his leg, tightening and loosening their hold.

"What happened?" She asked as she came over and knelt next to him, silently examining him.

"Stepped on a toy car that slid out from under me." Wilson replied, while he tried to control his breathing and keep from getting sick.

"What hurts?" She asked clinically.

He refrained from giving her a dirty look for asking such a stupid question to which the answer was painfully obvious. "My knee and foot. Pretty sure I just twisted my foot and sprained my knee. Just give me a few minutes and then we can get up."

"Let me take a look at your foot before you move." She told him, "I can already see your knee is badly sprained, if not worse. Did you feel a pop?"

Wilson looked down to find that in place of a knee there was a cantaloupe. _Damn!_ "I'm not sure I felt anything other than pain why?"

"Your leg is slightly misaligned." She said as she began to manipulate his leg to make sure it isn't just the way he's bending it.

Wilson almost screamed at the pain that ravaged his knee. "Stop, please!" He pleaded as a couple lone tears came streaming down his cheeks. She quickly stopped with a look of horror and concern crossing her face.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think your knee was hurt that badly." Cuddy said apologetically as she moved down to his foot and gently took off his shoe and sock. She expertly probed and manipulated the foot while trying to move his leg as little as possible, taking in his reaction to the movement and the way the muscles and ligaments moved under the bruised skin.

"I think your foot is sprained, I'm going to go get a bandage. Stay here." She told him once she'd finished her examination.

He waved his hands around as if to say, "Where am I going to go?"

30 seconds later he heard the telltale sound of _step thump_, granted a speedy _step thump_, and knew House was on his way. "What happened?" He demanded angrily as he lowered himself onto the floor next to his friend.

"Fell." Wilson answered simply. "Injured my foot and re-injured my knee."

"Yeah I can see that by the basketball that is in your pants where your knee should be." House quipped with an edge in his tone. "Sprained foot?" He asked while using his cane to point at the limb in question.

"That's what Cuddy says." Wilson said while he sighed.

"You don't believe her?" House asked almost incredulous.

"No, I do it just doesn't hurt that bad." Wilson replied while massaging his thigh.

"You're thigh hurt too? Wow, we could be twins!" House exclaimed jokingly, trying to cover up the worry he felt by the news that his friend couldn't feel much in his foot. He moved over to examine the knee, giving Wilson an apologetic look before he did. House knew this would hurt and he hated doing it but he was worried that Wilson had broken something in his knee or even dislocated it again. He probed the knee, trying to see if he could feel bones grinding under his touch and was thankful that he couldn't but it did seem that the joint had popped out of place again. It worried House how easily Wilson's knee seemed to dislocate itself; the knee joint in general is one of the hardest to dislocate. He made a mental note to run some tests but for right now he looked up at his friend. "It's dislocated again." He said.

"Then pop it back in!" Wilson commanded and pleaded at the same time.

"What? No!" House exclaimed in alarm. There was NO way he was going to be responsible for causing Wilson that kind of pain! "Do you have any idea how much that will hurt? The last time they did that you still almost screamed and that was with painkillers in your system. I'm not doing that to you." House refused quietly. He knew the dislocation was agony but he wasn't about to become responsible for causing Wilson more pain.

Wilson chuckled, "So instead you're going to let me lay here in agony and wait til we get to the hospital for someone else to fix it?" He challenged sardonically. "Please House. I know it will hurt and if you need to, put a pillow over my face so I don't scream bloody murder but sitting here staying still is agony. I can't imagine how much it's going to hurt once I'm moved. Besides, you and I both know that it's more than likely the bone is pressing against the nerves and partially cutting off the signal; that's why I can't feel a lot of pain in my foot."

House winced at the truth of Wilson's words. ALL of them. God he didn't want to do this but Wilson had a point. He looked into the chocolate brown orbs filled with such pain, begging them not to make him do this.

Right at that moment Cuddy came in with Lucas trailing her. She had two ice packs and two compression bandages in her hands.

House turned around to her. "You need to get Rachel out of here." He warned while he moved into position.

Cuddy's eyes grew wide in realization and horror when she understood what House meant and what he was going to do. "House, you can't! Do you know how much that will hurt him?" she exclaimed.

"Of course I do!" He yelled at her, tears forming in his eyes.

Wilson placed a comforting hand on House's, silencing him. "Cuddy, don't. I asked him to do this. I think the bone is pressing against the nerve and partially cutting off the signal to my lower leg." He explained. "Judging by the swelling of my foot it should hurt a lot and yet it barely aches."

"Wait, you're actually going to pop his knee back in place?" Lucas asked incredulously while managing a little wince of sympathy. "Do you need any help?"

Cuddy whirled on him. "You didn't just seriously ask to help did you?"

"Yeah." Lucas replied unflinchingly. "It's obvious he's in agony and while the process itself will but just as painful if not worse, the after effects won't be and I'd like to help."

House nodded, "Yeah, I'm going to need you to hold his torso and left leg down. He'll want to fight me." He said, cutting off Cuddy's retort. "Cuddy, get her out of here and go put on a movie or something. Maybe she won't hear it."

Cuddy stood stunned into silence and frozen on the spot. After a minute she grabbed Rachel and took her into the master bedroom to throw in a movie, turning up the volume to hopefully drown out the sound of Wilson's scream which will soon come.

* * *

House helped Lucas lay Wilson down on the floor so it would be easier for Lucas to keep him from fighting House during the process. He gave Wilson one last pleadingly apologetic look before he gripped Wilson's lower leg and twisted.

Wilson, who had been trying not to cry and yell in agony, lost whatever control he had. He couldn't stop the ear shattering, heart clenching scream that escaped his lips, causing his face to go red and the veins in his neck to pop out. He fought House with all his might but House had seen that coming and Lucas held him down, giving him something to fight other than pain.

The scream and the excruciating agony stopped with a sickeningly loud _POP_. Wilson's knee had been relocated and he could feel the pain from his foot as well as the bearable agony from his knee. He lay there, crying silently while trying to get his breathing under control again.

"Lucas, I need something to immobilize his leg with." House told the man who had formerly been holding Wilson down. Tears were filled House's piercingly blue eyes and a couple fell down before he reached up and stemmed the flow.

Lucas looked at Wilson with tears of his own filling his eyes. Wilson's scream had pierced his heart and it bled for his friend. He gave a comforting pat on the shoulder to the man lying on the floor and then got up to see what Lisa thought they should use.

House moved slightly while he waited for Lucas to come back. Wilson grabbed his hand, squeezing gently. "Thanks." He rasped.

House nodded, "Do you want to sit back up?"

Wilson nodded and began the process of sitting up and scooting himself back against the couch, whimpering when it pulled on his knee.

Once Wilson was settled, House grabbed the pillow that Wilson had been using earlier and placed it under the injured man's knee.

Wilson tried to keep in the hiss and cry of pain the action brought but failed miserably. While the knee wasn't anywhere near the agony it was earlier, any movement still caused excruciating pain.

House grabbed the abandoned ice packs and placed one over Wilson's knee and placed the other in Wilson's sock and then gently over his swollen foot. He pulled out the amber bottle that seemed to live in his pocket. "Want a Vicodin?" he offered, hoping Wilson would turn it down because then it meant that Wilson wasn't hurting as bad as House thought.

Wilson studied him. "How many do you have left?"

"Enough." He answered not liking where this line of questioning was going.

"House." Wilson scolded and asked at the same time.

"A couple." He gave in.

"A couple? You are almost out and you didn't tell me that you needed more?" Wilson exclaimed, motioning energetically while not moving his leg.

House winced, "I was going to tell you tonight. I have enough to last until my morning pill."

Wilson started shaking his head. "No, I don't want a Vicodin but I appreciate the offer. When we get home I will write you a script and you can fill it first thing in the morning." He lectured.

"Fine." House replied and began looking around the room impatiently. "How long does it take to get something for knee immobilization?" He cried out angrily.

* * *

**_AN: I hope I accurately described the pain Wilson is feeling. Like I've said, I've never experienced it so I'm only guessing. Please Review!_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_AN: I appreciate the reviews, PLEASE keep them coming! :o) _**

**_Once again I apologize if anything is medically incorrect. I am not a medical professional, just someone with access to Google and Webmd

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_**

**Chapter 7:**

Lucas found Lisa curled up in bed and cuddling with Rachel, tears streaming down from her beautiful grey eyes. He crawled in bed and held her close while Beast and Beauty danced to "Tale as Old as Time".

"How's Wilson?" She sniffled.

"Better," Lucas told her, "though I think he's still hurting."

She nodded, "Yeah, he will be for awhile." She sniffled again.

"Are you ok?" He asked her, concerned.

'Yeah, I managed to keep Rachel from hearing anything but the movie." She answered. "I heard it though. I couldn't stop the tears."

Lucas merely nodded, knowing that nothing really needed to be said. Wilson was a good friend to both of them and knowing he was in that much pain hurt them. "Uh, House sent me to find something to immobilize Wilson's knee." The words were a statement but his tone was a question.

Lisa dried her eyes and cleared her throat. "Grab a couple pillows. Those plus the compression bandage I brought earlier should work until they get him to the hospital." She looked down at her sleeping daughter, "Let me put Rachel to bed and I'll help."

Lucas got out of the bed and picked Rachel up, carrying her to the nursery while Lisa grabbed the pillows. She met him at the door of the infirmary, eyes dry though still red. "Ready?" She asked.

"Yeah." He replied as they headed for the playroom.

They were barely at the door when they heard House. "It's about time! How long does it take to grab a couple of pillows?" he demanded angrily.

They let his comment slide off their backs. If it hurt them to know Wilson was in pain they couldn't imagine what it was like to be his partner and the one who caused that heart shattering scream.

"We had to put Rachel down for bed." Lisa defended weakly.

"Yeah, got to make sure Tweedle Dum is all taken care of first. Never mind the guy in agony in the play room." House snarked icily.

"House!" Wilson snapped, effectively silencing the diagnostician.

It had always amazed Lucas how well Wilson was able to read House and, though neither of them would admit it, control him. He never understood HOW the oncologist could say one word and put SO many meanings into it.

Lisa went over and kneeled next to Wilson, who looked up at her with concern and pain in his eyes. "Are you ok?"

On the outside Lucas was stoic, just an observer but on the inside he was on the floor rolling around in laughter. The man just had his knee popped back in place and had screamed bloody murder in pain and he was asking LISA if she was alright? How Wilson's brain works, Lucas doesn't think he'll ever understand.

Lisa actually did laugh out loud, albeit weakly, and gave Wilson a gentle slap against his shoulder. "I'm fine. You're the one who's in pain."

Wilson's breath hitched and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. House had started splinting his knee and had moved it to do so. Once he had his breathing under control he looked back at Lisa, tears covering his pain filled eyes like a thin sheet of ice covering water. "I'll be fine." He assured her just before he let out an unintentional whimper.

"You know," House interjected, "that statement would have been more believable if you hadn't whimpered like a puppy afterwards."

"I didn't whimper like a puppy and you're the only one who would think I resembled anything like a puppy." Wilson retorted through clenched teeth. He had accidentally bent his knee while House had lifted it to slide the pillow that was under it out and the pillow-splint in.

"How could they not with those puppy dog brown eyes of yours?" House quipped with a smile. Lucas thought he could see pain in those cerulean blue eyes but when he looked again, all he could see was concern.

"What's wrong?" Wilson asked. Apparently he had seen the expression as well.

"Nothing." House dismissed while he tied the compression bandage around the pillows, avoiding pressure on the injured joint, and strapping them to Wilson's leg.

"Your leg?" Wilson pressed, his concern for House overriding his concern for anything else.

House focused his sharp gaze on his lover for a few seconds before he looked away and began focusing on wrapping Wilson's sprained foot.

During the 10 seconds House had stared at Wilson it seemed that they had had an entire conversation because Wilson just nodded and turned to Lisa, "Do you have your script pad here?"

Lisa looked at him confused, "Yeah, why? Do you need a script for something?"

"No," Wilson shook his head before turning his gaze toward House, "not for me."

Lisa followed his gaze and then looked back at him before she nodded and got up to go write House a prescription for Vicodin.

"You should have had her write something for you too." House growled, annoyed that his attempts at hiding his pain, and the need to dispel it, from Wilson hadn't worked.

"I'll be fine with some ice and some Aleve. You're the one in serious pain." Wilson argued, his hands clenching and releasing on the floor beside his legs.

"Speaking of.." House said, a little more cheerily, clearly trying to change the subject. He placed the ice packs over Wilson's injuries again and then moved so he was sitting next to the injured man. He leaned his back against the couch and silently began massaging his thigh, his head back and his eyes closed.

For lack of any idea what else to do, Lucas joined them though looking more relaxed since he wasn't in any pain.

Lisa walked in carrying a glass of water, a bottle of Aleve and a script. Lucas swore sometimes that woman was a mind reader but he guessed that being a doctor and knowing her friends had more to do with it than actually reading minds.

She handed the script to House and the rest to Wilson who took the items without question or comment and swallowed to pills while House swallowed one of his last Vicodin.

One pill usually doesn't do jack but lately he's been finding that he's needed less and less and he wants to make sure he doesn't run out; withdrawal's a bitch! "As much fun as it is to sit here and stare at walls, I think we should get up. I'd like to get Wilson to the hospital sometime today." House said, sarcasm filling his voice.

They all started rising to their feet, Wilson included. "Stay still you idiot, you're going to need help." House snapped at him as he rolled his eyes. Sometimes even HE didn't believe just how stubbornly idiotic Wilson could be. He held out his hand for the younger man to take, which he did so gladly, while Lucas grabbed Wilson's other hand. Together they both got him off the floor.

Wilson inhaled with a hiss and exhaled with a grunt/groan mix. House assumed it was from the pain of blood rushing down to the injured areas and his foot accidentally touching the ground while he got up.

Cuddy went around to Wilson's injured side but House stopped her. "You should be on his left and Lucas on the right."

"Why?" Lucas asked even as he started moving over to Wilson's injured side.

"Leverage." House stated simply. "Cuddy's shorter than Wilson meaning it'd be harder for him to keep weight off his leg since he'd have to lean down onto her."

"You could help him you know." Cuddy snarked, a little upset that House seemed to think she wasn't useful.

"No he can't." Wilson panted.

Lucas moved in silently, grabbing Wilson's arm and throwing it over his shoulders while he in turn slung his arm around Wilson's lower back, his hand holding on to Wilson's side. He looked at Lisa, then Wilson and waited for them both to nod their assent before starting the painfully slow hop toward the front door.

Just as they began to move Wilson let out a yelp of pain and immediately straightened his back, his body instinctively trying to shy away from the painful touch.

Immediately House whirled around and stared Wilson down. He looked at Cuddy and Lucas, "Move your hands so they're overlapping over his ribs." He told them before he turned on Wilson, "Why didn't you mention that you'd hurt your back?" He accused.

Wilson blushed deep crimson, "Because it wasn't important. It had nothing to do with my knee or my foot and it doesn't hurt that bad." He tried to rationalize to the older man whose face was turning red with exasperation.

"You really are an idiot aren't you?" House all but yelled back. "I thought you went to medical school! Did it ever occur to you that we needed to know that when it came to moving you or say, restraining you while I popped your knee back in place? No, of course not, you were too busy being the master manipulator that you are and talking me into causing you exponentially more pain." He spat out in a furious growl. "Because that's what you do isn't it? You manipulate me until you get your way-"

"House." Lisa warned.

House heard her warning but ignored it while he continued to unload things that have been on his mind for years. "You manipulated me into coming here tonight, you manipulated me into coming here and playing nice with them 2 years ago which led to becoming friends, you manipulated me into caring, hell you even manipulate me in bed! There's nowhere I can go to get away from you and your manipulation! Why can't you just leave me alone sometimes? Huh? Why must you always come back like a lost dog? What do I have to do to get rid of you?" He asked, the questions themselves coming out in a plea. "You even manipulated me into this relationship! That's how good you are!" He finished pointing his finger at the one person whom he had ever truly loved.

House stopped talking, his mouth shut so fast one would think his teeth were magnetic. His lips were slack, showing he wasn't shutting up from anger. It was in his ice blue eyes that everyone could see what he really felt. It was the same emotions that swirled through Lucas and Lisa and showed plainly on their faces, shock and horror.

Lucas and Lisa stood there stunned. They knew House had been upset with Wilson for making him reduce the knee back into place but they didn't know that he felt all that. They stole a look at Wilson who didn't look stunned.

Wilson balanced precariously on his one good leg, his arms folded across his chest. His face was the perfect picture of neutrality, with one exception – his eyes. Wilson's eyes had darkened considerably from the puppy-dog, chocolate brown to ebony. His pupils had dilated in anger to where there was very little brown left. However the emotion in them wasn't anger so much as pain, confusion and betrayal. Oh there was anger it was just buried deeply under all the rest.

Lucas and Lisa expected a lot of things but what they didn't expect was what Wilson said next. "You done?" House studied Wilson for a moment before slowly nodding his head still showing the "deer in the headlights look". "Good. Now if you don't mind I'd like to get to the hospital." He said with the air of a parent who had been tolerating a child's outburst to finish so they could go to the store. Only the way his voice cracked sporadically had told the others how he was truly feeling.

The look in Wilson's eyes and the way he just requested to go to the hospital almost floored House. He knew he had hurt his friend and he felt horrible. He hadn't meant to say all that and he didn't know WHAT made him say it but he did know that it was all true with the exception of them being in a relationship. That they had started mutually.

Lucas and Lisa were immediately at Wilson's side, carefully avoiding his lower back while they helped him out of the room. As they passed House, who hadn't moved from the spot he had been standing in, Lisa threw him a glare that would freeze Hell.

They had made it to the living room before Wilson needed a break. Out of habit he had been trying to help them get him out to the car by placing a little bit of weight on his injured leg, his knee screaming at him the entire time and his foot barely able to tolerate his weight. Fortunately he was too numb by House's outburst that the physical pain had barely registered while he was walking. However now that he was sitting he could feel the protest from his injured limb, causing tears to well up in his eyes and his teeth to clench. He sat panting for awhile, tears dropping down his cheeks like a slow starting rain "spitting" down from the sky and hands shaking as badly as a drug addict's who's going through withdrawal. Wilson wasn't totally sure that his body's reactions were from pain but he wasn't about to admit to House, especially in front of Cuddy and Lucas, just how badly his words had hurt.

"I think we should call an ambulance. They'll be able to transport you easier and stabilize your knee better." Cuddy suggested after taking a long look at him.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly capable of getting him to the hospital and you and Lucas are capable of getting him to and into the car." House snapped.

Wilson glared at house before turning back to Cuddy. "I think that's probably a good idea." He told her.

House looked at him stricken and dumfounded. He knew Wilson hated riding in ambulances when there wasn't an emergency but yet he had offered to go in one anyways.

Cuddy nodded and dialed the number of an ambulance service. Being the Dean of Medicine at a hospital really came in handy. She had almost every single ambulance company programmed into her phone and had professional relationships with every single one of them. She explained the situation to the dispatcher and the woman promised she'd have one at Cuddy's house ASAP.

They sat in silence while they waited for Wilson's ride, each lost in their own thoughts. Tears hadn't stopped falling down Wilson's face and House wanted nothing more than to go over and comfort his partner but he wasn't sure if Wilson would accept the offer or pull away from him. He wasn't about to act on a feeling if he wasn't sure of the outcome so he stayed sitting in the armchair far enough away from Cuddy, who had been giving him enough of a cold shoulder that he thought he was in the arctic tundra instead of a heated, 75 degree house, but close enough to Wilson that he could be at his side in an instant.

The sound of a knock on the door startled them all, causing both Cuddy and Wilson to jump, the latter wincing and clenching his teeth when the action brought to life the pain in his back.

The EMT's gently loaded Wilson onto a stretcher and began to immobilize his knee with a splint. They silently checked him over before they began to move him, making sure nothing vital was injured.

When they offered to let House ride with them Wilson objected. "No!" He said. "He can take our car. He won't want to be there right away anyways, I'm just a friend." He said coldly with a shrug of his shoulders.

His tone froze House to the core. He thought his heart had actually stopped for being frozen. Of course he'd want to be there, bugging the entire staff to make sure they did their jobs competently. How could Wilson say that? Oh yeah, House had yelled at him basically saying that he didn't actually WANT to be in this relationship. House couldn't let him leave thinking that.

"You're more than a friend James." He said before they closed the doors. "I love you, always have and I always will. I'll follow in the car and meet you there." House felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach and shatter when he saw the tears, that had been slowly trickling down his lover's cheeks, start to flow freely like a flood before the doors of the ambulance closed completely and the vehicle drove away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

House stood outside, watching the ambulance disappear from view, completely unaware of time or of others. He wasn't even sure he took in a breath until he felt a gentle but firm hand on his arm. He looked over to find Cuddy standing in the street next to him, wearing her coat and scarf. She had changed from her black dress into jeans, a sweater, and flats.

"I received a voicemail not long ago." She started. "It was from Wilson asking me to drive you to the hospital. He didn't think you should be driving right now." She told him evenly, anger in her voice. House nodded, unable to get his brain to cooperate and say something witty and sarcastic. "I saved the message in case you want to hear it." His head snapped up to stare at her, ice blue eyes meeting icy grey ones in question. "In case you wanted to know how he sounded or how he was doing at the time." She answered to his unspoken question.

"How are you going to get home?" He asked, finally forcing his mouth to open. He cringed at how much genuine interest came out in his voice. What the heck was wrong with him? He's House, he's not supposed to care how she gets home or that Wilson is hurt at all let alone beyond the physical level. Damn Wilson! Damn him for doing this to him, for making him actually, genuinely care!

"I'm going to call Lucas when I'm ready. He'll get Rachel up and come get me." She explained while they climbed into Wilson's Volvo. "There's no need for them to come to the hospital too."

"But there is for you?" House challenged.

"Yes." She answered without pause. "I want to make sure you get there ok, per Wilson's request, and I want to make sure HE'S ok. Not to mention that you two MAY need a middle man for a little while, which will be my other purpose."

"We won't need a middle man. Wilson's the master of repression. He'll repress his feelings til we get home and can talk about them."

"Apparently he's not the only master of repression." Cuddy challenged coldly. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking "We could have hurt him more because he didn't feel like telling us he'd hurt his back"." House answered, voice void of emotion.

"So you decided to blame him for manipulating you into doing EVERYTHING that you haven't wanted to do for the last 2 years?" Cuddy asked incredulously. "How does that teach him about telling us the extent of all his injuries exactly?"

"It doesn't!" House yelled. "I don't know why I said the rest. Ok? I hadn't wanted to say it but once I started I felt like I couldn't stop. It felt SO good to get it all out." _Until I saw the look in his eyes that is._ He finished but didn't say out loud.

"Well I hope you feel better because if you're lucky you won't lose the one person who has stood by you through everything." She growled disgustedly as she pulled up to the handicapped parking space by the front doors of the hospital.

"I know." House conceded quietly and sadly. GOD he was such an ASS sometimes!

They walked through the doors into the lobby, heading straight for the help desk when they were intercepted by Chase. "He doesn't want to see you right now." He told House firmly.

"I don't care if he doesn't want to see me, tell me what room he's in." House demanded.

"No."

"You do know I can fire you right?" House challenged.

"You won't fire him." Cuddy said, stepping forward. "If Wilson doesn't want to see you, you aren't going to go barging in. Give him some time. Go to your office, let me see what I can do."

House looked from Cuddy to Chase and back again. "He hasn't said anything about Cuddy not being able to visit." Chase stated flatly though his tone implied trying to give some hope to his boss.

House just gave them both a disgusted look, which was aimed for the situation and himself than they, and walked away.

"How's he doing?" Cuddy asked Chase while the Australian led her to Wilson's room.

"Physically he's doing fine. His back should be fine within a couple of days and he doesn't even need to be on moderate bed rest. He has a grade II sprained foot which will be healed by the time his knee is able to support weight, House did a good job of putting it back in. He has a follow-up appointment scheduled for a week so they can get him in for surgery. The bone tore through a lot of soft tissue and caused some extensive damage, not to mention the soft tissue that was barely healed." Chase informed her. "For now he's resting comfortably."

"Good, but you said physically." Cuddy prompted.

"Yeah," Chase sighed, "once we got some pain medication into him, he got a little chatty. Thankfully, I was the only one there to hear it but he spilled his feelings on what House said to him before you guys came. Not surprisingly enough there was very little anger, mostly pain and betrayal. I don't know how House is going to dig himself out of this one." He finished with a sad shake of his head.

"We both know that Wilson will forgive him a lot quicker for this than he will when Amber died because he loves House and can never turn his back on him, no matter how much the jerk hurts him." She replied.

They had made it to Wilson's room and were standing outside finishing their conversation. Chase didn't reply to her last comment, merely offered a small smile and then left. She turned around and walked into Wilson's room.

Wilson lay in bed, his foot had been bandaged and his knee had been put in an immobilizer leaving his right leg once again supported by a mound of pillows. The head of his bed was upright and his sad eyes stared into blank nothingness. His head moved to see who was coming in, his eyes focusing on her.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" She asked while she came and sat down in one of the chairs next to his bed.

"Foolish." He answered truthfully but sadly.

Cuddy felt her heart break a little at his answer. She took his hand in hers, giving it a light squeeze. "Wilson, you know he didn't mean those things." She cooed.

Wilson gave a cold, humorless laugh. "Actually Lisa, he did. I could see it in his eyes. With the exception of being in the relationship that is, that one he didn't mean which is the only reason I asked you to bring him here instead of taking him home and taking me to a hotel."

"While we were driving over here, I took the liberty of lecturing and studying him." She began, hoping her findings would ease his heartache a little. "He was beating himself up the entire way here for what he had said to you, for hurting you. I think that had I not been in the car, he would have cried and it wouldn't surprise me if he was in his office doing just that." Wilson gave another humorless laugh. "James, he knows he's screwed up royally and he knows there's a chance that he might have pushed you too hard this time and lose you and that realization broke his heart."

Wilson looked up at her, tears in his eyes and flowing down his cheeks. "I don't want him to hurt." He said.

"I think you do," She told him, giving him a condescending smile, "otherwise you wouldn't have asked that he be kept out of your room."

The shocked look on his face couldn't have been more real if someone had just burst in and told him he'd won the lottery. "I never said that. Who said I said that?"

"Uh," she began completely thrown by his behavior. "Chase."

"Damn it!" He cursed furiously, while he tried getting out of the bed. "Hand me those crutches."

"No." She told him firmly. "If you want me to get House, I will but I'd prefer to keep you in that bed for a little while longer."

"Fine." He told her with placating hands. "Please go get House and tell Chase to get in here."

Cuddy watched with fascination as Wilson's face softened when he asked for House but immediately darkened when he asked for Chase. She gave a small mirthless smile. It bode well for House that he was so furious with Chase for telling House that he didn't want to see him but it didn't bode well for Chase. It took a lot to get Wilson angry but once you did, it was very hard to gain his trust back.

She stood up and walked out, heading straight for the nurse's station where Chase had been standing. "He wants to see you." She told him without pity. "Why did you tell House that Wilson didn't want to see him?"

Chase stared back unflinchingly, "Because for one, he did and for two, House has done enough damage for tonight."

"Well he doesn't seem to be under the impression that he said anything of the sort." Cuddy shot back.

"We had just given him the pain medication and we asked him if he wanted us to call House. He said no and that he didn't want to see him tonight." Chase explained. "There were two other nurses in the room who heard him." He finished while he swept his hand around the nurse's station to the two he specifically meant. They both nodded, obviously not trying to disguise that they had been eavesdropping.

"Well, you might want to take them in with you and explain that to him because he's furious." She warned as she left to go find House. This would make his night a little better at least.

* * *

She found House sitting in his recliner, massaging his thigh and staring blankly out the window, lost in his thoughts. "House." She said trying to get his attention. "Wilson wants to see you." She said when he looked up, showing she had gotten it.

"Did you work you magic then boss lady?" He asked coldly.

"No." she said, her eyebrows raised and shaking her head. "I didn't have to. He immediately asked for you when I asked him why he didn't want you in his room."

"Yeah, I'm sure he did." House responded with a disbelieving snort.

"House, I don't think he could've faked the shock that was written on his face. He doesn't remember requesting that."

"So he did request it then." House countered.

"Yes." She conceded. "When Chase had given him strong enough pain medication to make him high and you know he does stupid shit when he's high."

House's head fell and she saw a couple of tears drop into his lap. "Yeah I do." He replied with a small chuckle, remembering when Wilson thought it was a good idea to try to jump off the roof of his car resulting in a broken ankle and a bruised ego.

"Come on." She prompted, giving his shoulder a nudge. "I almost had to have him restrained to keep him in bed. If it wasn't for the fact that he had stayed there to chew Chase out, I probably would have."

"Why would he chew Chase out?" House asked while he stood up and started walking out the door.

"He doesn't remember anything while he was high so he thinks he never said that and is furious with Chase for telling you that he did." She explained. "Don't worry, I spoke with Chase before I came here and warned him to take his witnesses in with him when he went to go talk to Wilson."

House smiled and nodded while he walked in to the elevator and waited for her to press the button for the floor they needed to get on. Cuddy was right, the news had cheered him up and he was now more anxious than ever to see Wilson.

* * *

They walked up to Wilson's room in time to see the man in question offer an apologetic face and scrub his hands over his face. Chase laid a comforting, and forgiving, hand on his shoulder with a smile and leave. Chase offered a nod to his boss and his boss' boss before he left to go check on his other patients.

House immediately walked into Wilson's room, with Cuddy trailing behind him. He heard a sniffle and was automatically by Wilson's side. "James?" he asked wanting nothing more than to make those tears disappear forever.

Wilson gave another sniff and tears fell down his neck despite his hands covering his face. House couldn't take it anymore and sat down on the bed, pulling his friend and lover to him and holding on for dear life.

Cuddy stayed in the doorway for a few seconds before she turned on her heel, closed the blinds and left to wait at the nurse's station. She knew the two men didn't need her there to witness anything and left to give them their privacy.

Wilson heard Cuddy leave and felt all his self restraint leave with her. He could no longer hold back the tears and hurt that House had caused earlier and sobbed uncontrollably on his lover's chest while House held him so tightly it hurt. A small part of his self conscious recognized that House had been scared of losing him and thought that if he held on tight enough, James couldn't run away but the truth of the matter was that even if he wanted to, Wilson could never leave House. He needed and loved House desperately. Some would even say pathetically but he didn't care as long as House was by his side.

That didn't mean that Wilson would be able to forgive House easily for the things he had said. No, there was going to be a long period of House having to earn back his trust and to heal the damage he's caused. The last time something like this had happened House had done it quickly and without thought to his own well being by putting his mind and life on the line to try to save Amber. This time there is nothing like that to redeem himself easily and the road will be just as tough for the both of them.

* * *

House held on to Wilson as tightly as he could, hurt back be damned. He wasn't about to let go and give Wilson the chance to push him away or worse run away. Though he'd never admit it, House needed and loved Wilson almost as badly as he needed air and the though of losing the younger man suffocated him.

"I am so sorry." He began to apologize while he let his partner cry. "I am so sorry for hurting you. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you." He cooed while he rubbed Wilson's back. Tears had begun to slowly trickle down his own cheeks. "I love you James Wilson. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything and I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you." He confessed while he tried his damndest to hold on tighter, allowing himself to release tears of pain. Unlike Wilson's they were the tears of someone who had done the hurting and had hurt themselves by hurting the one they loved. They were tears of shame, anger, frustration and disgust; all aimed at himself and no one else.

Wilson stopped crying long enough to look up at House, bringing his hand to wipe the tears of the diagnostician's face. He gave a deep, mournful, loving kiss, one that both hoped would never end. But the need to breathe, for the both of them, had soon caught up with them and they reluctantly pulled away while still keeping their bodies unbelievably close.

House was unable to stop himself from apologizing once again as he stared into Wilson's deep, chocolate brown eyes full of a deeper pain than any he had ever seen or felt. "I am so sorry for hurting you." He said while he brought his hand up to caress Wilson's face and wipe away the tears. He felt his heart break even more than he thought possible when more tears fell down Wilson's face.

He pulled Wilson back down against him and held on for dear life once again, unable to stop himself from crying right along with his hurt lover. They both fell asleep in each other's arms, having cried themselves into exhaustion.

That was how the nursing staff found them a few hours later.

* * *

**_AN: Thanks so much for your reviews, PLEASE keep them coming! _**

**_I know that at one point during this chapter it sounded like I was ending it but I promise there is more to come. Thanks so much for your patience.  
_**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

When Wilson awoke the next morning his first thought was _This doesn't look like our apartment._ Then the previous night came rushing back in perfect clarity, almost knocking the air out of his lungs with the sucker punch it gave. His chest began to get tight and he knew it was because he was trying not to cry again. It was embarrassing the first time, there's no need for him to do it again.

He began to pull away, not wanting to be cuddled at the moment. House stirred but didn't loosen his death grip. If anything his hands tightened more on the knot in Wilson's sore back causing him to whimper.

House jumped at the whimper forgetting where he was and why. He quickly settled back down and began to pull Wilson against him when said man pulled away.

"Sorry." House apologized, realizing he had accidentally pressed on a sore spot on Wilson's back.

"It's fine." Wilson said, his hand snaking to his back trying to rub at the knot. "Could you grab the crutches for me?"

House watched Wilson with concern and fear in his eyes but turned to grab the crutches which were easily within reach for which House was thankful. His thigh had begun torturing him, sending white hot pokers of pain throughout his leg, for not taking his morning Vicodin yet. He pulled the amber vial out of his pocket and downed the last of his pills. He still has the script Cuddy gave him, he'll fill it as soon as he's mobile.

Wilson got himself into a sitting position, hissing when his back let him know its displeasure at leaning against House all night then being forced to straighten up without warning. He sat still on the bed, letting his back calm down before he began to gently lift his injured leg of its mound of pillows and lowering it over the side of the bed, his left leg following easily. Wilson sat on the bed, legs dangling off it, panting, waiting for the pain to subside enough to begin crutching over to the bathroom. The blood rushing to his injuries and the absence of pain meds, which he guessed he's been off of for about and hour or two, caused white hot sparks of pain to throb in his knee and travel down to his already dully throbbing foot, up to his sore hip which hadn't appreciated being expected to move with ease and easily hold his injured leg up after the position it had been frozen in all night.

He eased himself off the bed, gently but firmly landing on his left leg and balancing there for a few seconds before he grabbed the crutches, shooting House a grateful look, and made his way to the bathroom.

House watched Wilson with pain in his heart. He knew that the oncologist wasn't hurt that badly, physically, but it didn't make seeing him in ANY pain any easier. Once Wilson had shut himself in the bathroom, House gingerly eased himself off the bed, stretching out his leg which was close to spasming from lack of movement.

As he made his second trip around the room, Cuddy came in carrying an amber prescription bottle and discharge papers. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw House pacing around the room, shooting him a cold look. He knew it would be awhile before she forgave him for what he said to Wilson last night and he accepted it without argument. He deserved the cold shoulder.

Just as she was about to say something, Wilson came out of the bathroom looking more refreshed and awake though House and Cuddy saw with painful hearts that his eyes were red and watering. They allowed him to think that he had just splashed cold water on his face instead of letting him know that they knew he had been crying while in there.

"Hey Cuddy." He greeted happily, the break in his voice belying his smile.

"Morning Wilson. How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Ready to get out of here." He replied with a sigh.

"Good! I have your discharge papers right here and also a stronger prescription for Naproxen." She told him offering both. She didn't need to go over the discharge information, he already knew it all.

He grabbed the items from her, setting them down on the rolling bedside table before he sat himself down on the bed, letting his injured leg dangle off of it, his foot barely touching the floor to keep him grounded. He winced as he sat down and gave a little hiss when he put too much weight on his injured leg. He pulled the paperwork toward himself and began reading it over, eliciting an eye roll from House who poured a cup of water and pulled out two pain pills and handed them to him above the paperwork.

Wilson looked up to find House staring at him with concern and anger in his eyes, daring him to get mad at him for not wanting Wilson to be in pain. He sighed resignedly and took the medicine then returned to the paperwork. He signed and then handed the papers back to Cuddy, pocketing the prescription. "Give me a few minutes to shower then I'll start getting going on some work." He told her as he began to head towards the locker room.

"You're going to work?" Cuddy asked him looking surprised.

"Yeah. It's not like I'm not able to, though I may not be able to go all day but we'll see how it goes." He said completely unphased by her confusion or by House's low growl of annoyance.

"Don't worry," House assured with his usual tone. "I'll keep an eye on Jimmy."

Wilson rolled his eyes but didn't comment. He wasn't in the mood to talk about last night and the more he could burry himself in work the longer he could ignore it.

"Don't you have a case?" Cuddy asked.

"Nope!" House answered just as Foreman came up to him, handing him a case. House let out a frustrated sigh and hung his head just as the elevator doors closed.

* * *

The elevator ride passed in uncomfortable silence, the big argument elephant in there with them over-crowding it. The elevator dinged its arrival to the floor of the diagnostics department and Wilson's office. Both men got off heading to their own offices, House not without casting a longingly apologetic glance at Wilson who returned it with an even stare that couldn't be interpreted as neither forgiving nor unforgiving.

House began the DDX by being unnecessarily harsh on his team that morning with only one of them aware of why. Chase kept his mouth shut about Wilson had said, he wasn't about to talk to an even grumpier than normal House about it but that wouldn't stop him from taking time to check on Wilson. They got their orders to redo all the previous tests, even adding an LP and MRI of the brain as well and left grateful to be out of the room with so thick a suffocating atmosphere that most thought they couldn't breathe.

House stomped, as much as a cripple with one good leg could, into his office wishing he had a door that he could slam. He didn't want to be there trying to solve Mrs. Random Person that he doesn't actually care about's case, he wanted to be home trying to work through last night's argument with Wilson. Normally he hated talking about feelings and emotions, it was easier to pretend you didn't have them than to have to talk about them but he knew this "thing" between him and Wilson wasn't going to go away without talking things out and he wanted to make sure that Wilson knew how much he meant to the cantankerous diagnostician.

He plopped down on his chair and leaned back, peeking outside his balcony to see if he could steal a peak of Wilson in his office. The oncologist sat at his desk, sitting ramrod straight in his chair and talking on the phone. He had one hand massaging the bridge of his nose while the other held the phone. House couldn't tell if he had a headache or he was trying to prevent an emotion from showing through in his voice.

Wilson put the phone down, leaned forward to place his elbows on his desk and placed his head in his hands. House didn't even realize he had moved when he suddenly found himself knocking on Wilson's balcony door. Normally he wouldn't bother knocking but he didn't want to anger his partner any further than he already was. He waited for Wilson to take his head out of his hands and look up to see House, waving his hand in a motion that gave him permission to enter.

House was thankful to see that his eyes were no longer red but he looked exhausted. "Hey, you ok?" He asked with a nod toward the man behind the desk.

"Yeah," Wilson answered with a heavy sigh, "just tired."

House gave a sad nod, knowing he was partly to blame for Wilson's exhaustion, and began to leave.

"You don't have to leave." Wilson told him with a silent plea of _Don't Go!_ in his voice. "I don't have any patients today, just paperwork. Cuddy took pity on me and gave me off clinic duty and patient rounds."

House stood, fidgeting uncomfortably with his cane before he eased himself onto Wilson's couch. He kept his eyes downcast, afraid to look into the beautiful brown eyes and instead of finding forgiveness finding hatred and anger.

"Are you ok?" Wilson asked.

House's head snapped up so fast he was surprised he didn't have whiplash. He looked into the other man's eyes studying them hard but only finding concern. He heaved a huge sigh before answering, "No."

"What's wrong?" Wilson asked, concern coloring his voice, sending shards of guilt-tainted pain through House's heart. Wilson got up and heavily limped over to the couch, clenching his teeth in pain.

"You aren't supposed to be putting weight on your leg." House warned him, concern pouring off his own eyes and into Wilson's.

"I didn't think it was worth it to grab the crutches for one step. Don't worry, I'm fine." He answered as he grabbed House's hand which up until that point had been clenched at his side. "What's wrong?" he asked endearingly.

Before House could answer, the door to Wilson's office opened. "Get out." House growled at the man standing in the doorway.

The man ignored him, stepping further into the room, and stared at the pair, a sneer on his face. "You aren't my boss Dr. House." He replied with the overconfidence of a man who had gotten to where he was thanks to his daddy.

Dr. Daniel Cavanaugh stood in the office, glaring at House and Wilson with loathing. He stepped over Wilson's extended injured leg, handed him some files and waited while Wilson looked through them. Even though the man was a doctor he had the look of a greasy lawyer that spent his days chasing ambulances rather than in a respected hospital working for one of the best oncologists in the state, not to mention the country.

Wilson rifled through the paperwork, perusing it carefully before handing it back to Cavanaugh and giving his notes, which to House's pleasure were extensive.

Cavanaugh gave a curt nod, obviously not happy with how many critiques he had been given, no matter how gentle they were. He started walking away, his foot "accidentally" catching on Wilson's injured knee causing the oncologist to cry out in pain and grab his leg.

House knew it hadn't been an accident. He had watched Cavanaugh with an eagle eye as he stood there before Wilson, staring at his immobilized knee, calculating where he needed to place his foot and pull as he walked. House kept his mouth shut while Cavanaugh gave a fake gasp of horror and apologized to Wilson, which Wilson ignored too caught up in the extreme pain that throbbed in his knee.

House snuck his phone silently out of his pocket and shot a quick, but clear, picture of Cavanaugh's happy sneer while he stared at Wilson in pain just before the sadist turned on his heel and left the office.

House gave a small smile of satisfaction. He'd show the picture to Cuddy and explain what he saw later. Hopefully he'd get the bastard fired. He slipped his phone into his pocket and turned to his pale lover who was still hunched over, massaging his thigh since he couldn't do so to the knee. House rubbed the young doctor's back while he waited for Wilson to catch his breath.

While he waited for Wilson to conquer the pain he sent out a text to Chase, asking him to bring an ice pack to Wilson's office. He then hooked his cane around the leg of one of the chairs, dragging it over beside the couch and climbed into it while he gently eased Wilson to stretch out on the couch, placing a pillow below his knee and foot and behind his back.

Chase came in carrying the ice pack and a look of concern. For a minute House thought he was going to ask what happened, which would have been appropriate considering he was currently Wilson's doctor, but at the look House gave him he left it alone and left.

House placed the ice pack over Wilson's knee, then sat back and waited for it to take effect. He must have spaced off because the next thing he was aware of was Wilson's hand grabbing his and giving a gentle squeeze.

"Better?" House asked. His heart giving a sigh of relief when he noticed the pain lines on his friend's face had eased considerably.

"Yeah, thanks." Wilson replied, using his unoccupied hand to wipe at the tears that had started streaming down his face. "So, what's wrong?" He asked, determined not to be deterred from their earlier conversation.

House shook his head, "Later. Right now I'm going to go down to Cuddy's, tell her we're leaving and the reason why, then come back and get you, then we're going to go home. You're paperwork can wait."

"House, I'm fine, there's no need for me to go home." Wilson tried to argue even though he was more than ready to go home. The ice had pleasantly numbed his knee but he could feel the pain receptors igniting around it letting him know that it still burned hot with pain. His back had been feeling better but after spending a few minutes hunched over it had begun to protest and his foot had been throbbing steadily since he had attempted to limp over to the couch.

House whirled on him, not looking angry but more concerned and saddened. "We're going home James." He said with a tone of finality in his voice that Wilson didn't dare argue with.

"Ok Greg." He conceded tiredly just as House walked out the door, locking the door behind him.

* * *

**_AN: I know I'm so mean to poor Wilson. One of these chapters I'll be nice to him, I promise!_**

**_Thanks for the reviews, they help keep me writing!  
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	10. Chapter 10

**_AN: I'm rating this chapter individually. There is slash in this chapter so those of you with fairly innocent eyes, be warned! Though, I will admit that I didn't go overboard nor get very specific. I'm shy that way. Thanks for the reviews!  
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**Chapter 10:**

Cuddy walked into her office, not at all surprised to find House sitting in her chair with his legs up on the desk and bouncing a racquet ball off the wall, annoying the patients in Exam Room 1. "No."

"No what?" He asked.

"No to whatever you're going to ask." She replied without thinking, shooing him away from her desk so she could sit in it.

He sauntered over to the other side and sat down in one of the chairs. He inhaled deeply, "Need to take Wilson home." He told her.

"Is he ok?" She asked half concerned about him, half concerned about the files on her computer.

"Some guy tripped himself on Wilson's knee so now he's in a lot of pain, so I'd say no." House replied sarcastically yet bitterly, dragging out the last portion of his sentence.

"House, it was an accident." Cuddy told him catching the hint of bitterness and anger in his words.

"Actually it wasn't." House replied as he began taking his phone out of his pocket and finding the picture.

"Don't tell me you did it?" She replied incredibly, getting ready to scold him.

"No, not me." House answered like she was an idiot. "Dr. Daniel Cavanaugh." He told her while he handed her his phone, the screen showing the sadistic sneer. "I took that just as he finished apologizing to Wilson. You see, he's happy about causing Wilson pain." He pointed out.

Cuddy stared at the picture on the phone. She shrugged and handed the phone back, "Well that's definitely a look of happiness but you could have taken that picture at anytime in Wilson's office." She told him, writing his conclusion off. "He's a good doctor-"

"He's an idiot who got where he is with his daddy's money!" House argued, "Do you know that he brings all his files to Wilson to check before he turns them in. Wilson gladly helps because he's Wilson and he knows how to do his job so he always has critiques, suggestions and mistakes to point out. I swear he wrote out almost a page of them. You should have seen Cavanaugh's face!" He said, his tone going from argumentative to mocking to joy.

"Be that as it may, and I WILL be confirming it with Wilson, that doesn't prove he tried to hurt Wilson on purpose." She replied administratively.

"So instead of investigating it, you're going to wait and see if he tries to hurt Wilson again?" House mocked, "Makes sense if you don't want your Head of Oncology healthy or here at all." He got up and walked towards the door.

"House!" Cuddy called to him, stopping him before he turned the knob. He turned around to face her. "Find some solid proof," she told him, "something more than a random photo on your phone." He nodded to her and left.

Cuddy shut her eyes and leaned back against the chair. This was already a long day and now she has to worry about doctors attacking each other, GREAT! Some days she'd like to come to work and NOT feel like a babysitter.

* * *

House stormed out of Cuddy's office, making a slight detour to the Pharmacy to pick up his Vicodin prescription before heading up to Wilson's office. He was trying to decide how he was going to go about proving Cavanaugh did it on purpose without putting Wilson in line for more pain when he reach his office, only to find the duckling's waiting for him.

"LP was clean, so was the MRI and blood tests." Masters started immediately, always the eager one. They rest usually sat back and watched while she laid out the facts.

House angrily strode into the conference room, staring at the white board and trying to find something that connects all the symptoms together. "Biopsy the liver, ultrasound the stomach and schedule the OR. We've got ourselves a bleeder."

Masters stared at him confused but the other 3 immediately left. 3+ years with him has taught them that when he does something like that, he's usually right and if so, they need to find it right away.

House finished packing and exited via the balcony doors to enter Wilson's office. He found his friend still lying on the couch, fast asleep. It always left him in awe how young Wilson looked while he slept. The lines of worry, pain and exhaustion left his face giving the image of someone in their early-mid 30s rather than their early 40s. He pulled up a chair and watched the sleeping man, memorizing every line of his face, gently caressing his cheek.

Wilson stirred at his touch, his eyes fluttering open. "Hey," he greeted, "we gotta stop meeting like this. People will talk." He joked.

House laughed, "Well we better give them something to talk about." He suggested slyly.

Wilson raised an _Oh really?_ eyebrow before he smiled. "Maybe later when I'm to run away."

House rolled his eyes, "You're no fun." Wilson just laughed and began to sit up. "How are you feeling?" House asked, mentally smacking himself on the forehead for the amount of concern that came through his voice.

"Better." Wilson answered, still sitting on the couch.

House gave a dramatic eye roll and sigh, "Good! Gotta make sure you can cook tonight, I'm sick of take-out." He quipped. "So, we gonna go or are you going to make a tent?"

Wilson returned his eye roll, "Hand me my crutches." He demanded while pointing at them.

"Geez! What do you want me to do next, carry you out there? Cripple here!" He exclaimed while he put more emphasis on his limp.

"Actually yea, if you wouldn't mind carrying me, that'd be great!" Wilson quipped back with a smile.

House didn't answer. Instead he threw Wilson his coat, smacking him in the face with it. "Put your coat on and shut up." He said while he brought the crutches over. "Here, I'm not carrying your fat ass out the door, I won't make it."

"Hey!" Wilson cried indignantly. "My ass isn't fat, not compared to yours at least."

House put on a hurt face, "Oh Jimmy, you wound me!" He exclaimed dramatically, his hand going to his heart.

"So, it is possible? Wow!" Wilson replied as he gently stood up, slipped his coat on and got a firm grasp on his crutches.

"Just get that unbelievably sexy ass of yours out the door!" House growled non-threateningly.

"Wait, so which is it? Do I have a fat ass or a sexy one?" Wilson asked, faking confusion.

House waited for him to lock his office up. "Hey be nice Jimmy, I've got a cane and I know how to use it."

Wilson put on his best wounded puppy face, "You wouldn't use it on an injured man would you?"

House sneered at him evilly. "Have you met me?"

"Good point!" Wilson replied with a head nod. "Let me rephrase that. You wouldn't use it on the guy who's going to make your dinner tonight would you?"

"Cheater." House answered with mock sadness. They both know he wouldn't hit Wilson with his cane while he's injured.

They made it out to the car with relative ease, Wilson mother henning House while on the potentially icy sidewalks even though he has just as much chance of falling as House does. They arrived home in almost record time with no traffic to contend with and were both settled on the couch, sipping beer and watching one of House's TiVo'd shows within an hour of leaving.

At the end of a second episode of The L Word, Wilson had started getting uncomfortable. The Naproxen had worn off half an hour ago and the numbing effects of the ice only last so long. He started changing positions, biting his lip to keep quiet groans from escaping his lips. He decided his best option was to get up and move around via starting some dinner.

He crutched around the couch to avoid getting in the way of the tv and heads to the kitchen. He stands there staring at the stove for a few minutes, seeing a flaw with his and House's plan. How is he going to cook with only one leg to stand on?

"If you turn the little knobs on the front to the "Medium" notch, it turns the stove on." House instructed sarcastically.

Wilson turned around and glared, "Thanks, I never would have figured that out if not for you." He deadpanned.

"No problem!" House replied cheerily while he grabbed another beer from the fridge. He came over to stand next to Wilson, leaning against the kitchen island. "So, why are you staring at the stove?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to cook while balancing on one leg." Wilson replied like it should have been obvious.

House gave an exasperated sigh. "Go sit down, I'll cook tonight." He told the younger man, a hint of _big baby_ was in his voice.

Wilson didn't budge. "No, you do it all the time therefore I can. I just need to figure out the logistics." He said as he propped up his crutches against the wall diagonal from the fridge, out of the way. He limp-hopped over to the fridge, grabbing the ingredients he wants from it and placing them on the island counter. Then he limp-hopped to the stove, bending awkwardly down on one leg to grab the cutting board, the pots and the pans he'd need, placing them either on the stove itself or on the counter next to the stove. He was thankful that while the kitchen was spacious it was also a confined space which is exactly what he needed.

With a triumphant smile he turned to House. "See, I got it. You go back to the living room. I'll call you if I need you."

House stared evenly at him for a moment before he shook his head. "No." He said, placing his cane next to Wilson's crutches. "Gotta make sure you don't burn the place down or hurt yourself while you're attempting to be me."

"I'm not attempting to be you." Wilson argued, his hands on his hips in what most have come to call the "Wilsian Pose".

House gave a snort, "All you'd need is a cane and a little more wit and you'd be close."

Wilson cocked his head to his right, "I don't know whether to consider myself insulted or complimented." He said as he began to chop red, orange, yellow and green peppers and 2 cloves of garlic while he leaned his right hip against the counter.

House didn't offer to help any time during the cooking process instead he just pulled up a chair and watched with growing desire. He could never understand why but Wilson in the kitchen was ALWAYS a big turn on for him; the fluidity of his movements while he added things together that always turned into an amazing meal, the flush of his cheeks while he stood over the heat and the way he moves about the kitchen with graceful ease all contributed but what really gets House is the glint of pure joy in the chocolate brown orbs that just bring him to his knees and yet make him want to drag the man into the bedroom, dinner be damned!

House sat and watched until he thought he was going to drown in desire. He couldn't take it anymore. He eased himself silently off the chair and towards his lover, who was now stirring some lasagna noodles, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Wilson's waist, bending down to kiss his neck.

Wilson froze under his touch because he had been surprised by the contact. Once the surprise had faded, rather quickly in fact, he all but melted, trying his best not to purr with every kiss. He felt like his body was electrically charged and every touch from House sent sparks of pleasurable electricity through his veins. "House." He said, doing his best not to moan. "Dinner's cooking."

"Yeah, I was able to deduce that with my brilliant powers of diagnostics." House replied in between kisses to Wilson's neck and ears.

He began to gently nibble on Wilson and the oncologist almost let go of the spoon he was holding. "Just let me put it all together and get it in the oven, ok?" he demurred.

House pulled regretfully back with smoldering glint in his eyes. "Don't keep me waiting too long." He warned teasingly, running a caressing hand over Wilson's collar bone before he headed towards the bedroom.

Wilson blushed scarlet and felt an excitement in his groin. He quickly threw the lasagna together, put it in the oven and set the timer for 1hr45mins. He then limp-hopped over to where he put his crutches, grimacing when his injuries let him know they didn't like it, and headed to the bedroom, making a quick stop to grab a couple of his pain meds and downing them with tap water.

He found House sitting up in bed naked but covered by the blankets. He felt his cheeks burn crimson with desire again and crutched his way over to the bed, placing his crutches against the wall by the bed before he sat down. He felt House scoot closer to him, kissing his skin while he helped get Wilson undressed.

House pulled off Wilson's shirt, one shoulder at a time, kissing and nibbling as he went. He then gently pulled Wilson onto the bed more, patiently waiting while he waited for his partner to adjust to the change of position and gently lay his injured leg awkwardly on the bed. House removed the knee immobilizer with the skill and gentle touch of a doctor and placed a pillow under the injured joint then moved in, gently straddling Wilson, and began to unbutton the dress slacks that Wilson still had on from work, pulling them and Wilson's boxer-briefs off in one swift and practiced motion, making sure to be extra careful around his injured knee and foot.

After placing the immobilizer back on Wilson's knee and gingerly laying the leg on a small mound of pillows, House resumed his straddle. He began to slowly grind their hips together, their erections rubbing together eliciting pleasant moans from both.

Eventually Wilson joined the thrusting, ignoring the pain that ignited throughout his injured leg. He grabbed House's penis, thrusting his hand up and down, tightening and loosening with practiced ease. House moans into his neck where he has been nibbling and kissing for the passed minute. Wilson lets a wicked smile come across his face as House begins thrusting harder against Wilson's hand. He slows his pace down, forcing House to do the same. "Patience," he whispers silkily into House's ear, "we've got all night."

House began thrusting harder and faster again, "You may, but I don't." He replied huskily, thrusting once again and biting a little too hard on Wilson's neck, trying to get his point across.

Wilson complied, knowing his lover was nearing the end of his endurance. His thigh must be killing him in this position. Normally Wilson is the one on top since he's the healthier one and he likes being the more dominant one in bed but with his injuries, he just isn't able to this time or lately, putting more pressure on House's ruined thigh.

House gave a high-pitched moan and Wilson knew he was close. He began playing with the tip, then applying pleasurable pressure to the shaft causing House to give one last final moan that lasted as long as it took for him to get to the climax, then release. With a final gently kiss to Wilson's neck, House collapsed onto the bed physically spent.

Wilson laid there patiently waiting, listening to House begin to regulate his breathing. He knows House will return the favor when he's ready, which usually doesn't take long. "How's your leg?" He asks out of pure concern. He hears a hiss of pain and the familiar rattle of a pill bottle as an answer. Wilson lets out a quiet sigh. "I'll go check on dinner." He says, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

"You set the timer. It will go off when it's done." House pointed out, knowing what Wilson was planning on doing. He rolled over onto his left side, cuddling with Wilson. "Give me a few minutes." He tells the younger man softly, running his hand over Wilson's collar bone.

Once again Wilson finds that he melts at House's touch and suddenly he's putty and is unable to move, giving House the image of compliance which, going from last night's argument, he needs.

Wilson feels himself deflate at the memory of last night and gives House a gently hug. "Maybe later." He says by way of an apology though he doesn't know what he's apologizing for. He waits for House, who is looking at Wilson with confusion written all over his face, to release him so he's able to gently ease himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

Wilson sits there for a bit, contemplating what cloths to put back on and whether or not to try to get them to fit over the immobilizer. He doesn't even realize that House has gotten off the bed until the diagnostician is kneeling in front of him, gently slipping his injured leg through the opening in his underwear. With a patience that is never associated with the older man, House waits for Wilson to put his other leg through before he starts putting the injured leg through the biggest pair of sweats either of them own. Clearly he's trying to avoid having to take off the immobilizer too.

Once both of his legs are through the underwear and pants, Wilson stands up using the wall for balance so he can drag them over his butt and onto his hips. He grabs a hold of one crutch and uses it to keep his balance while he holds out his hand for House to grab. He gingerly, but with strength that belies his body type, eases House up off the floor and lets him sit down on the bed.

They both share grateful looks with the other at the same time, causing a bout of laughter, before Wilson grabs his other crutch and heads off towards the kitchen to make sure the lasagna is cooking thoroughly and not burning. Satisfied that it is in fact done, Wilson props his crutches against the wall diagonal from the fridge and grabs the potholders. He places the lasagna on top of the stove and begins to load the dishwasher so he wouldn't have to worry about it after dinner.

House comes out of the bedroom wearing a loose t-shirt and sweats, watching Wilson with a scrutinizing glare. Wilson knows he's trying to solve the puzzle of Wilson in a hurry to escape and he also knows that it won't take long for House to figure it out.

Wilson ignores the dissecting glare and starts setting up the table, limp-hopping painfully around the kitchen. Once the table is all set and the food is dished out Wilson sits gratefully down and begins to eat, ignoring whether or not House has joined him. It wasn't that he didn't care but his knee was killing him and he needed to get off it.

They ate the meal in silence, House still staring intently at Wilson who was doing his best to ignore it, rubbing his thigh. House caught the rubbing and gently nudged a chair toward Wilson, silently suggesting that he use it to put his leg on. Wilson smiled gratefully at his friend and did as was suggested. It wasn't entirely comfortable placing an injured leg on top of a hard chair but it was better than not doing it at all so he dealt with it and finished eating.

To Wilson's surprise, House was immediately out of his chair and cleaning up once they'd finished. He gave Wilson a hard but concerned look and jerked his head back in the direction of the bedroom. "Go lay down. Get your leg up. I'll clean up and join you shortly." _Then we can talk_. The words hung in the air unspoken but both men heard them crystal clear.

Wilson nodded wearily and did as he was told, stopping to grab his meds and a bottle of water. This was not going to be a fun conversation and he was going to need some relief to get through it with his normal calm.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

House walked in the bedroom to find Wilson sitting up against the headboard, his leg resting on its usual mound of pillows. He limped into the room and sat against the footboard of the bed so that he was facing Wilson.

Both sat in silence, waiting to see who would break it first. Never having been one to let silence linger for too long, Wilson spoke first. "I only have 3 questions for you then we'll consider the matter close." He said evenly, though his hands fiddled with the blankets below him. House kept staring at him, waiting for the questions. "Do you love me?"

House rolled his eyes. "You already know the answer to that one. I told you so the yesterday." He replied annoyed.

"Maybe," Wilson conceded, "but I'd like to hear it for the sake of this conversation. Besides, how do I know that when you told me it wasn't just to get me to stop crying?"" His tone was negotiating and accusatory but his eyes pleaded.

House couldn't believe it! Wilson almost looked scared of the answer. "Yes. I love you James Wilson, Boy Wonder Oncologist." He answered sincerely, laying a hand on Wilson's shin and rubbing slightly.

Wilson gave a small smile, a solitary tear falling down his cheek. He didn't think he could admit to House just HOW relieved he was to hear that and know that it was the truth. He nodded, "Ok, second question. Do you want to be with me?"

House felt the air leave his lungs and drew in a deep breath to make sure he could. Could Wilson be contemplating leaving? "Yes." Was all he answered though there was more on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say.

Wilson nodded again. "Well being with me means doing things I enjoy doing as well as doing things that you enjoy doing. Follow-up questions: Do you feel that we do what you like enough?"

"Yes." House answered again, almost completely sure where this was going.

"Then why is it manipulative of me to suggest that you do things that I like such as visiting Cuddy and Lucas?" Wilson countered with his second follow-up question.

"It's not." House sighed.

"Apparently it is, otherwise you wouldn't think so. I didn't ask you to become friends them, I didn't ask you to start caring about them. You did that on your own." Wilson argued, his tone saying _so don't you dare blame me for that!_ "All I asked was that instead of staying home and doing the same thing on Thanksgiving that we go to Cuddy's and it became a tradition of sorts after that." He explained semi-rationally, his hands out in a placating manner. He conveniently left out the part where he knew House didn't want to go and he knew that if he could just get the 3 of them (Cuddy, Lucas and House) talking, they'd fix things.

House didn't defend his accusations. He knew there was no need. Wilson was clarifying things so that they both could rationalize and move on.

Wilson drew in an unsteady breath. "Last question. Do you enjoy our sex life?"

House almost laughed out loud. Was he not there earlier? Instead of answering he just gave Wilson his "Are you an idiot?" glare that Wilson returned, his arms crossed across his chest, with his "Just answer the question" glare. "Shall I show you how much I enjoy it?" He answered with a smoldering glint in his eyes.

Wilson gave a half smile, but his posture was still stiff. "Would you prefer it if I became submissive in bed?"

House had to stop and think about that question, much to Wilson's horror. Did he want Wilson to be more submissive or did he like the dominant Wilson? It only took another second for him to decide. "No. If I wanted you submissive, you'd be submissive."

Wilson raised a challenging eyebrow, "We'll see about that once this," he waves a hand towards his leg, "heals." He challenged earning a sneer from House. "Get up here." He commanded softly, patting the space next to him with his hand.

House stayed put for a minute before happily complying, moving himself up to the head of the bed and cuddling with Wilson, wrapping his right leg over Wilson's and planting it on the bed between Wilson's legs.

Wilson wrapped his arm around House and drew him in, a smile of triumph on his lips. He had been able to show House logically that his complaints had been unfounded and he had managed to keep himself from getting overly emotional. He winced and stiffened when House's leg pulled on his knee.

"Sorry." House apologized.

"It's fine." Wilson answered sleepily. He let out a big yawn. When did he get so tired?

"Tired?" House asked lazily.

"Wow! Those are some amazing skills you have. Have you thought about a career in diagnostics?" Wilson joked without actually answering the question.

House laughed deep in his chest and then used his body to squeeze Wilson. Wilson gave a small hiss when it, once again, put pressure on his knee and House mentally smacked himself in the forehead again. How is it he keeps forgetting to leave that leg alone? "You didn't answer my question." He pointed out while he withdrew his leg.

"Because you already know the answer." Wilson answered in a sleepy slur, his eyes barely open.

House smiled and sat up, grabbing the spare blanket from the bottom of the bed and pulled it over them. He listened as Wilson's breathing evened out and he began to snore slightly. House pulled away gently, careful not to wake the sleeping man, and lay on his back with his arms behind his head.

For once in his life, the wheels in his head weren't turning. House was able to just concentrate on the ceiling and let his mind wander. Soon he found himself asleep, dreaming about pranks he could innocently play on Cavanaugh and a smile ghosted his face.

* * *

The next couple of months passed without incident and House found himself falling into a steady, familiar and easy rhythm. Nothing had really changed except that Wilson was finally mobile on his own and, unless he over-worked the knee or it got really cold out, hardly in any pain.

House hadn't found the reason for Wilson's knee to be so weak and it was annoying him. He went over and over and over Wilson's medical records and tests, though he knew them by heart, but only found a bad car accident when Wilson was a teen that severely damaged his knee. However, given that Wilson should have gone to physical therapy to strengthen the knee House didn't give too much credit to the accident.

He sat in his office trying to figure out how to get a blood sample, to test for other possible causes, without Wilson noticing. His options were few. He grudgingly decided that his best option might be to have the ducklings review the medical records and tests to see if they see something he might have missed. He also decided that he'd ask Wilson first and if that didn't work he'd hold the oncologist down and get the sample. He knew the latter option wouldn't go over well but House would get what he wants, he always does.

His stomach gave a rumble and he looked up at the clock to notice that it was time to bug Wilson for lunch. While, yes, he did this mostly for his benefit he also did it for Wilson's. If House didn't go in there and bug him to buy him lunch, Wilson wouldn't take time to eat lunch which often led to Wilson having headaches and being grumpy for the rest of the day. House limped out the balcony door and stood at the separating wall, watching Wilson to see if he was with a patient.

Wilson sat at his desk slumped over some paperwork. His right arm lay flat on top of the desk, his hand holding on to the paper while he wrote on it with his left. His legs were crossed at the ankles and tucked under his chair. Wilson had stopped wearing the immobilizer as soon as he could get away with it and had been given a brace that would allow more movement. However, going by the fold of Wilson's creased slacks, he wasn't wearing it today.

House rolled his eyes. The idiot is going to hurt himself again if he's not careful. He stood there watching Wilson for a couple minutes more before the February cold got to him and he slipped into Wilson's office, plopping down on the couch as loudly as he could.

To House's dismay, Wilson didn't look up or acknowledge that he was had entered the room. House studied his friend more before he noticed the headphones sneakily tucked in his ears. He though about being nice and lovingly alerting his partner to his presence but he quickly went for the fun route. House picked up his cane and poked the top of Wilson's head, which was currently the only thing House could see on his head.

Wilson jumped visibly, the headphones falling out of his ears and looked up. "House!" He cried annoyed, rubbing the spot on his head.

"It's time for lunch." House said as the sounds of Miles Davis came through the headphones.

"So go eat." Wilson replied still annoyed, waving his right hand towards the door.

"Why were you listening to music? You never do that in case you should miss one of your precious patient calls." House asked instead of leaving.

"I felt like it." Wilson replied defensively.

House stood up to look at Wilson's desk phone. "You're phone is forwarding all your calls to your voicemail," he said while he went and checked Wilson's office door," and your door is locked. Could it be that you don't want to be bothered today?" He asked like he was solving a crime in the 1800s.

"Yeah, you caught me." Wilson conceded unconvincingly. "Now get out." He brought his hands up to his head and began to knead small circles on his temples.

That caught House's attention and he took a closer look at his friend. Wilson had bags under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping and there were fine lines of pain creasing around his eyes and mouth. "Headache?" He asked feeling slightly guilty.

"Yeah," Wilson answered still kneading his forehead, "tension headache. Thought if I got rid of the tension part of the job for a bit it'd go away." He answered, indicating the phone and the door.

House was pleased to notice that Wilson hadn't enclosed him in that category. "You know, not straining your eyes to read might help as well." He quipped. "Take anything for it?"

"Yeah, some Advil." The oncologist replied as he gently laid his head on top of his desk.

House found himself wanting nothing more than to help ease his friend's suffering and so limped over behind him, massaging his neck and shoulders, frowning slightly at the tension in them.

Though most would never know it by looking at him, Wilson had one of the heaviest patient loads of the Department Heads in the hospital. It was at least twice the normal standard and at least 5 times House's. House knew that from the time Wilson walked in to his office to the time he left the hospital, Wilson very rarely had a break in his schedule. Between his patients, clinic duty and patient rounds, Wilson barely had time to eat lunch and therefore if he took a break, like the one he was currently taking right now, it was usually necessary and his staff willingly obliged and helped out. Most nights House found the only way to get Wilson to relax fully was sex which he was more than happy to give.

Wilson let out a soft moan of pleasure and House felt the muscle he had been working on begin to relax. House also felt his leg begin to protest all the standing he was making it do and, regrettably, had to stop. He bent down and gave the back of Wilson's neck a kiss before he went back over to the couch and plopped down again.

"Thanks." Wilson said, his right hand automatically going to the back of his neck and rubbing it.

"Now you owe me lunch." House replied with a nod.

The corners of Wilson's mouth slowly curled upwards into a smile. "Fine," he conceded as he stood up, "let's go."

* * *

They walked back to the diagnostics department with House doing a DDX with the ducklings trailing behind him giving their input. Wilson listened with fascination at how fast all 5 of their brains worked. One would put an idea out there and the others would, almost immediately, shut it down. The ducklings even managed to do it to House a few times!

Amazingly, of the 6 of them Wilson was the only one not paying full attention where he was going so when someone flew passed him, clipping him painfully in the side with a crash cart, it caught him off guard. He felt his left side snap back to the right, twisting the right side of his body swiftly left and then fall back against the glass walls of the diagnostics department and slide down.

"Oops, sorry Dr. Wilson!" A familiar male voice called back unapologetically sarcastic.

"He didn't sound sorry at all. Who was that?" Masters commented.

"Dr. Daniel Cavanaugh." Foreman answered with more disgust and scorn in his voice than anyone's ever heard. "The man's a liability to this hospital. He passed his way through med school with his father's money."

"Well if you've got any idea how to get rid of him, I'm all ears." Wilson suggested as Chase held out a hand to help him up off the ground. He winced when the act of standing up woke some aches but said nothing of them since they weren't serious, though his knee was starting to throb.

"Are you ok?" Chase asked examining him for signs of injury. He frowned when he noticed that the oncologist was slightly favoring his right leg.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Wilson answered, ignoring Chase's disbelieving look.

"Actually, I've been meaning to discuss that with you." House chirped cheerily though his eyes were scanning Wilson over with the practiced ease of someone who's spent the last 15+ years doing it. When everyone turned to House with quizzical looks he just rolled his eyes. "Getting rid of Dr. Useless." He supplied with a jerk of his thumb to their unasked question. "Let's go in your office." He suggested as he turned to walk that way. "Don't you have tests to run?" He prompted the ducklings when he noticed they were about to object.

Chase, Foreman, Masters and Taub all rolled their eyes and walked away, Chase hesitating just slightly longer than the rest. Wilson turned around to start heading to his office so he didn't notice Chase hesitate but House did. The Australian doctor obviously wanted to make sure that Wilson was alright but with an assuring look from House he turned on his heel and left.

House turned and followed a lightly limping Wilson to his office. He didn't comment about the limp or the way his friend was stiffly carrying himself. He knew that Wilson was hurt but it wasn't badly and therefore didn't want a fuss made.

Wilson was glad to get to his office, just to be able to sit down. He didn't hurt too badly really, just badly enough to make walking uncomfortable and tiring. He plopped himself down on the couch, wincing when pain flared in his side and knee. Wilson leaned back into the couch, laying his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

"You know if you want a nap, sitting up might not be the way to go." House commented lightly as he sat himself down next to Wilson.

Wilson chuckled, the lines around his eyes crinkling. His smile turned into a small grimace and he brought his left arm protectively over his side. "So what is it you wanted to talk about?" He asked.

"You need to fire Cavanaugh." House stated simply, still scanning Wilson.

"Why?" Wilson asked lazily.

"Because he's bad for your health." House answered. "Seriously." He added when Wilson looked at him like he was crazy.

"House, I think you're reaching a bit here." Wilson told him. "How could a man that I have hardly any contact with be bad for my health?"

"A couple months ago he tripped over your knee remember?" House prompted, waiting for Wilson's nod of acknowledgement. "It wasn't an accident and I don't think that hitting you with the crash cart today was either."

"You have no proof of either." Wilson scoffed as he began to go sit at his desk. He had paperwork that he needed to do and he couldn't do it while he sat on the couch.

"No but I could." House began.

"I'm not going to like this am I?" Wilson asked.

"Probably not." House answered with an exhaled breath. "It means you'll have to spend more time with him and I know that will be torture."

Wilson grimaced at the thought. "Why don't we just wait and see if something like today happens again? That way we can actually make sure your theory is correct and we don't go torturing people unnecessarily."

House studied Wilson for a moment. Though it annoyed him that Wilson didn't seem to believe him, he couldn't really blame his friend. If someone had come up to him and said this he would have just blown them off and told them the floor of the psych ward. "Ok."

Wilson looked up from his paperwork, surprise etched in his handsome features. "Ok? That's it? No brow beating to get what you want?"

"Nope, you're right, we need more proof but while we're on the subject of what I want.." House began.

"Yeah?" Wilson asked impatiently.

"I want a sample of your blood."

Wilson blinked and cocked his head, confused. "Why?"

"Because I'm hungry." House retorted sarcastically. "Why else would I want your blood? To test it."

"Test it for what? There's nothing wrong with me."

"Au contraire!" House objected. "I don't think it's normal how easily you can injure your knee. 2 dislocations in 4 months and they weren't even from an accident, they were from falling. It's just not normal, I daresay."

Wilson was about to argue but stopped himself. Was House right? The dislocations were weird but he figured they were from the force of his body going one way and his knee and lower leg going the other but the doctor in him argues _Even so, it shouldn't have dislocated the second time that easily, besides, what harm can in do to give him a sample?_ "Fine." Wilson granted with a sigh. "Just do it quickly, I've got work to do."

House smiled and pulled out the equipment he'd been hiding in his jacket pocket. Wilson laid his right arm on the top of his desk so House could sit in one of the chairs and draw his blood.

House expertly tied the tourniquet around Wilson's arm and after finding the vein, stuck the needle in quickly and painlessly. He drew a couple vials, labeled them and then pulled the needle out. "You should have the results in a few days." He said happily before he walked out.

"Can't wait." Wilson quipped dryly before he went back to his work.

* * *

**_AN: I apologize if H&W aren't very IC. I had trouble finding a way to write this chapter and yet put them in character. Not to forget that I don't seem to be able to do IC very well in general. :o) _**

**_Please review and let me know what you think!  
_**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

House sat behind his desk, his feet up on the desk, bouncing his Lacrosse ball off the wall. He'd sent the Ducklings, minus Chase who was doing House's clinic duty, off to review Wilson's records and patient file as well as grab the results from his blood test. It didn't really take all 3 of them to do it but he really didn't them hanging around the office either.

He heard the door to his office open and the shuffle of feet. He looked up to see Wilson standing in front of the desk, his arms across his chest, looking shy. House stopped bouncing the ball long enough to take a good look at the oncologist. He could tell something was wrong by the way he was standing (Wilson never stood that stiffly even when he was mad at House) but he just couldn't tell what. That's when he noticed the bruise.

Wilson had a deep purple bruise across his left hand, spreading from the middle down to the knuckles and up to his wrist. He was cradling the hand close to his body, protecting it from too much movement and, no doubt, from being viewed since he had his right hand covering it.

"What the hell happened to you?" House demanded as he stood up and gently grabbed the injured hand, motioning his partner to sit down in one of the chairs across from his desk.

"Got it caught in a door," Wilson dismissed with a flinch when House pressed on a tender spot.

House looked up at Wilson and knew that wasn't the entire story. "And?" He prompted hoping he wouldn't have to force the answer out of the younger doctor.

"And I think you're right about Cavanaugh." Wilson conceded quietly with a hiss.

"I'm always right." House replied as he got up and grabbed an ice pack for Wilson's hand. It wasn't too terribly swollen but the ice would help with the pain as well. He brought it back and handed it to Wilson who gently laid it on his hand. "So what makes you think I was right?" House asked.

"I had my hand resting on the door frame, talking with Brown about a patient and Cavanaugh passes, greeting us, then walks into the room and slams the door on my hand. He claimed that he hadn't noticed it there but I'm not sure I believe him." Wilson responded with a grimace as pain flared in his hand. The ice was helping but in his opinion it was taking too long.

House nodded, "You have that X-Rayed yet?" He asked pointing to Wilson's iced hand.

"Yeah, Brown wouldn't let me leave his sight without it." Wilson replied nodding, "Hairline fracture, nothing serious."

House nodded, letting Wilson know he had heard. "Well, come on." He said, motioning for Wilson to join him.

"Where are we going?" Wilson asked skeptically though he got up and began to follow anyways.

"You'll see." House answered without actually answering.

They both climbed into the elevator, Wilson hugging his iced hand close to his body and covering it with his right arm. House pulled out his phone and sent Cuddy a message telling her to be in her office since they were heading there and then slipped it back into his pocket.

The elevator dinged and opened to reveal Cuddy standing there waiting for them. "Why did I have to be in my office?" She asked immediately without greeting.

"That's where we were going?" Wilson asked sounding scandalized.

House rolled his eyes at both of them. "Where else do you think we would be going?" He asked facing Wilson. He turned to Cuddy, "I have something I would like to show you but it's best to do it in your office. This could get messy if you know what I mean." He answered her question crudely.

"House!" Both Cuddy and Wilson scolded but for different reasons.

Cuddy rolled her eyes as she turned on her heel and led them to her office. Once inside, Wilson sat in one of the chairs opposite her desk while House locked her office door and sat down in the next one. "What's this about?" She asked looking at both men with annoyance in her face.

House nudged Wilson in the ribs, "Tell her. She won't believe it if it's coming from me." He encouraged and whined at the same time.

Wilson just rolled his eyes. "I think that House may have been right about Cavanaugh." He began shyly, chewing on his lower lip. He proceeded to tell her about the crash cart incident, which hadn't been reported since he was essentially fine, and then told her about the door incident that happened earlier.

She let out a small gasp of surprise. "Are you alright?" She asked a little confused since he didn't seem to be hurt.

House nudged Wilson again, "Show her." Wilson slowly uncovered his iced hand and took the ice pack off.

Cuddy was immediately out of her chair and examining his hand gently, her brows knitted together in concentration, anger and concern. "Have you had and X-Ray?" she asked frowning at the amount of bruising.

"Yeah, it's fine, just a hairline fracture." Wilson dismissed with a wince.

Cuddy wanted to comment on the absurdity of that statement but she knew that he had a right to be dismissive. While it did mean his hand had been broken by this incident, it also meant that it had barely been broken. "Alright," she responded with a sigh, "I'll ask him about it and write up a report but I can't guarantee that anything will come of it."

"That's fine. It wasn't my idea to come here anyways." Wilson replied with a placating smile before throwing a glare at his lover.

"Well, I can safely say that you're off clinic duty and paperwork until the fracture heals." Cuddy told him as she sat down behind her desk.

"See some good came of this?" House exclaimed with a pat on the back as he and Wilson walked out of the office.

Cuddy watched them go before she contacted her assistant. "Bradley, please contact Dr. Daniel Cavanaugh and have him come to my office immediately." She told him wearily. She knew Cavanaugh was as slippery as a serpent and would more than likely wiggle his way out of the accusations but she hoped to hear his side of the stories anyways and she knew that if all else failed she could talk to Brown, Chase, Foreman, Masters and Taub whom had all been witnesses to at least one of the incidents.

* * *

Wilson was sitting in his office later that evening, responding to a consult request via typing one-handed when his door suddenly flew open. Having been friends with House long enough he wasn't particularly surprised and didn't even look up until he heard an annoyingly familiar voice.

"You son of a bitch!" Cavanaugh yelled at him, his face red with anger. "You told that bitch Cuddy that I slammed the door on your hand on purpose and now she's writing me up for it!"

"First of all, do not refer to Dr. Cuddy in any other way but Dr. Cuddy. Second of all, it wasn't my idea but I am glad that I told her." Wilson replied remaining calm. "You see," he began while he stood up and came around his desk, "I can't help but look back and wonder how you didn't notice my hand in the doorway, especially after you greeted Dr. Brown and I."

"So what if I did? It's not like any damage was done!" Cavanaugh sneered. He studied Wilson with a look that sent chills down the older doctor's spine. "I could think of a few ways to cause more damage." He suggested as he advanced on Wilson, backing him into the wall. "Of course, I could think of a few ways to try to make it up to you too. I'd be much better than that poor excuse for a human being House I can assure you."

Wilson felt his hackles rise. Normally he wasn't one for violence, preferring to talk his way out of situations rather than start a fight but no one insulted House. "Get out right now." He growled.

Cavanaugh sneered at him more. "What did I go to far or are you afraid that you actually want me?"

Wilson couldn't help the disgust that showed on his face, "You disgust me." He said as he ducked under Cavanaugh's arm and tried to walk out the balcony. He didn't make it very far when he felt strong hands grab his left wrist and yank it behind his back then push him against the wall.

"I disgust YOU?" Cavanaugh exclaimed quietly, applying more and more pressure to Wilson's arm. "Do you know how disgusting it is to see your department head with someone who is so below him that he shouldn't even be allowed to work here? Do you know how disgusting it is to see you leer at him with your love-sick eyes?" He asked as he applied more pressure still to Wilson's arm, causing the trapped man to wince and whimper in pain. Cavanaugh leaned his body closer to Wilson's so they were rubbing against each other. "He's not good enough for you." He whispered as he yanked harder, causing Wilson's shoulder to pop.

Wilson couldn't help the cry of pain that escaped his lips as he felt his shoulder dislocate. He cried out again when he felt Cavanaugh hold the arm where it was behind his back and slowly twist his wrist until he felt a _SNAP_.

Cavanaugh leaned forward more, eliciting more soft cries of pain when Wilson tried to move away. "I told you I could do more damage." He whispered in Wilson's ear. "Do you want me to try to make it up to you now?" He asked as he began to kiss Wilson's neck.

"Hey!" A welcoming Australian voice called out. "Get your hands off him." Chase warned in a voice Wilson had never heard.

"Why, do you want him to?" Cavanaugh asked with a malicious sneer as he ran his left hand over Wilson's hip.

"No, just wanted to save you some pain." Chase responded lightly before House swung his cane, landing it on Cavanaugh's right side, eliciting cried of pain from Cavanaugh and Wilson when the psychotic doctor dropped his arm. House didn't give Cavanaugh a chance to get close to Wilson again as he swung his cane again, making a connection with his stomach, doubling the man over.

Cuddy along with 2 security guards came in. "You didn't have to hit him the second time you know." She scolded lightly, not even meaning it. If she'd had her way he would have beaten Cavanaugh senseless.

House gave a shrug, "Looked fun." He said lightly before he turned around to focus on Wilson who had slid down the wall clutching his left arm close to his body and cradling his wrist.

Wilson looked up at him, dried tear tracks on his face and pain in his eyes. "You couldn't have done that before he dislocated my shoulder and broke my wrist?" He asked trying to make a joke.

House gave a small smile, "Yeah, sorry. Timing has always been one of my flaws."

"Just one?" Wilson responded with a pained laugh.

Chase and Foreman came into the office and helped Wilson up from the ground, being careful not to jostle his left arm as much as they could. Chase escorted the pained doctor over to a chair and began to examine him. Normally he would have preferred to do this in an exam room so he could reduce the shoulder but he didn't think House was going to let Wilson out of his sight and Wilson didn't look like he could make it that far.

Cuddy ordered Taub to go get some pain medication, a wrist splint, a sling and a wheel chair while Chase examined Wilson.

Wilson was about to object to the chair but he noticed that House didn't seem to steady on his feet and figured that he might be able to talk his friend into taking it instead.

Chase finished the examination and left to get an ice pack leaving House, Cuddy and Wilson alone in the office. Foreman had left to go supervise Masters as she performed a colonoscopy on their patient.

"You ok?" Wilson asked House, using his good arm to point at House's leg.

"Fine." House answered as he lowered himself onto Wilson's couch with a grimace.

"He all but ran over here without using his cane." Cuddy explained. "Idiot." She said somewhat affectionately.

Wilson let out a whimper as pain radiated throughout his arm, "What'd you do that for?" He demanded protectively.

"Timing." House responded rubbing his thigh.

Wilson could stop the stab of guilt that attacked his heart but said nothing knowing it would only anger House more.

Chase came back with two ice packs and placed one over Wilson's wrist just as Taub returned with the items he was told to bring. Cuddy took the pain medication, two different kinds, and handed one to Chase to give Wilson while she gave one to House. Chase laid Wilson down on the floor, eyes reflecting concern and sadness at Wilson's pain, and proceeded to reduce Wilson's shoulder, earning a pained cry (though not as loud as it would have been without the medication) from the oncologist. He then proceeded to splint Wilson's wrist, not wanting to set the bone until he knew for sure which bone was broken and how bad. After he applied the splint he took the sling from Taub, shooting the former plastic surgeon a grateful look, and slipped it over Wilson's head and gently maneuvered the arm into it.

Once he was finished he placed the second ice pack over Wilson's shoulder and replaced the one over his wrist. Chase got himself up off the floor first and then proceeded to gently help Wilson off the floor as well, motioning for him to get into the wheel chair.

"No," Wilson objected with a pointed look at House who looked more relaxed but still in pain, "I don't need that."

Cuddy knew what he was getting at and allowed him to get away with it, asking Taub to escort Wilson to radiology. The two left but not before Wilson threw a worried glance at House who assured him with a nod. She smiled at their ability to communicate with a single look but said nothing. Instead she asked Chase to help House into the wheelchair, much to House's objection.

Chase went up to House, joking that the diagnostician had better let him because he didn't want to have to pick up House's sorry ass off the floor. The joke earned a non-threatening glare from House but he proceeded to allow Chase to help him off the couch and into the chair.

House tried to take advantage and head to radiology but Cuddy stopped him, telling him that he was heading to his office where he'd sit in his chair with his leg resting on a pillow and elevated. Wilson would be fine with Taub and would be back before long. She knew he wanted to be with his partner but she also knew that Wilson didn't want him there, seeing him hurting. The doctors in Orthopedics would have to manipulate his shoulder and arm to make sure everything is fine and it would be painful. They'd examine his wrist and forearm along with his X-Rays and MRI results to make sure there isn't a break in the radius and/or ulna. Over all it wouldn't be pleasant for Wilson and House didn't need to be there for that.

House gave her a fierce glare with ice blue eyes but she didn't back down and eventually he complied, all with Chase standing off to the side waiting for a decision to be made. He helped House into the chair and then left to fetch a pillow and the heating pad. Once he was certain House was set and comfortable he left to go check on Wilson per House's instructions.

As he left, Chase couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. House sending him after Taub and Wilson meant that he trusted Wilson in his care more than Taub's since House had never sent anyone to check up on him. It made him feel good that his stubborn, taciturn and difficult boss trusted him with the one person who was most important to him.

Cuddy watched Chase smile as he left and pulled up a chair facing House. "I think you made his day." She suggested lightly. "You may have to ground him to the clinic to knock the smile you just put on his face off."

House just rolled his eyes and waved dismissively. "He knows I think he's a good doctor and he also knows that I trust him more than Taub."

"Especially with Wilson." Cuddy pointed out with a smile of her own. "I don't remember you being this adamant that someone be with Wilson when Chase was taking care of him at Christmas or Thanksgiving."

"Because you wouldn't let me." House growled.

_If you say so_ Cuddy thought. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you." She said out loud. "I'm just glad that Wilson's relatively ok."

House scoffed, "Yeah, he'll be unable to use his arm for a few weeks and he won't be able to use his hand for even longer."

"Well it's better than what could have happened." She retorted. She shivered at the thought of what Cavanaugh would have tried to do if they hadn't shown up.

They sat in silence waiting for Wilson to come back, House secretly blaming Cuddy and Cuddy wallowing in her guilt.

* * *

**_AN: Poor Wilson! I just can't seem to leave him alone, can I. Hope you liked it, please review!_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

Cuddy was the first to see Wilson walking to the office. He was walking with perfect posture, his right arm cradling and guarding his left. She stole a glance at House, who had fallen asleep, and left to go greet him in the hall.

"Hey." He greeted with a warming smile.

"Wilson, how are you?" She asked concern and guilt etched into her beautiful features.

"I'm fine." Wilson answered. In truth he hurt and just wanted to go home but he could read the guilt coming off of her as clearly as he could read a cancer diagnosis.

She rolled her eyes, "You've been hanging around House too long." She joked.

"I think I represent that remark." A familiar gravelly voice replied behind her. House stood behind her in the doorway of his office still looking half asleep. He focused his attention on Wilson, "You ready?" At Wilson's confused look he added with an exaggerated eye roll, "To go home? Are you sure you didn't knock your head around?"

"No I didn't. The pain meds are making me a little loopy." Wilson retorted with a rather impressive eye roll of his own. "And yes, I am ready but can you drive?"

"Doesn't matter because you can't." House answered, limping back into his office to grab his things.

"He seems better." Cuddy replied dryly.

Wilson laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "He actually does. He wasn't limping as heavily. He's just tired." He tried to excuse.

"Well," she began while looking at her watch, "given that it's almost midnight on Wednesday you have until Monday off."

"That's unnecessary, really, I'm fine." Wilson demurred using his best oncologist voice. "I'll be in tomorrow, if for nothing else than to keep House in line and complete my patient rounds."

Cuddy eyed him skeptically but found nothing to contradict what he just said. The medicine must be kicking in because his posture has gotten more relaxed, though still perfectly straight, and he's no longer cradling his arm. "Fine but if you find yourself hurting, go home. We can find someone else to do your patient rounds. I'm sure Brown won't mind helping out."

"So his main job is to supervise me then?" House asked skeptically as he limped over to Wilson's side. "How do you know I won't corrupt him?"

"Because," Cuddy answered with a sigh, "while you two do tend to feed off each other, Wilson has a stronger moral compass for what's right and what's wrong. He'll stop you from doing something TOTALLY crazy."

House snorted his doubt and Wilson frowned at him unsure as to why House would doubt that. Eventually he decided he didn't care and shrugged, grimacing when, for a second, he forgot that he only had one good shoulder to use and pain radiated down his injured arm.

"Well, I better let you guys leave." Cuddy said as she stepped forward to give Wilson a gentle hug. "I'm glad that you're ok. I'm sorry we didn't get there sooner." She whispered into his ear before she pulled away and left.

"Don't go getting any ideas, I saw her first." House warned playfully.

Wilson just rolled his eyes and walked to his office to grab his own things. He cringed when his winter coat put extra weight on his shoulder but since it was the middle of February and there was still a bit of snow on the ground he knew he couldn't get away without wearing it. He grabbed the patient files that he hadn't finished, planning on doing them when he got home, and placed them in his briefcase with difficulty. It amazed him how hard things were to do one-handed, especially when it wasn't your dominant hand.

House watched Wilson with affectionate concern. He felt his stomach tighten and his eyes go soft when Wilson put on his coat, grimacing and clenching his teeth in pain. Logically, he knew that blaming Cuddy for Wilson's pain was ridiculous but he had decided long ago that Wilson being injured was unacceptable and therefore found he wanted to blame someone. It was too easy to blame Cavanaugh though if he'd had his way the bastard wouldn't be alive and his obituary would say "Death by Cane". He rolled his eyes when he saw Wilson struggle to pack a few patient files into his brief case. Not only was the idiot NOT going to be working tonight but he was trying to do everything without help, something House knew he'd need. "You might as well leave those here. You won't be doing any work tonight since it's almost midnight."

Wilson gave a seemingly nonchalant one-shouldered shrug, "I'm not that tired yet."

"Yes you are." House countered knowing that Wilson was exhausted but bothered by tonight's events.

Wilson didn't argue but he also wouldn't look at House. He just wanted to go home and put the whole day behind him. He knew House thought he was as fragile as a wine glass and too much pressure and he'd break but House was wrong. While he was bothered by Cavanaugh's behavior it was really what he said that got to him and not what he did or wanted to do.

Wilson had felt anger like no other surge through him when Cavanaugh had insulted House and then he felt it increase ten fold when he insulted Wilson's behavior towards House. If he had two good arms, hands and wrists he'd probably try to find a punching bag as it is, he wanted to get drunk (something he knew he couldn't do while medicated) and forget the anger. Just escape into blissful unawareness. Given that House had no problems mixing medication and alcohol, Wilson wasn't going to tell him his desire. Maybe he'd just stick to great, albeit gentle, sex instead.

After 5 minutes of struggling one-handed to get the patient files into the briefcase Wilson gave up, all but throwing the files onto his desk and slamming the briefcase into his office chair. "Ready?" He asked his partner, with red cheeks and panting slightly from frustration.

House watched him, stone-faced. "Are you?" He asked with a hint of concern in his voice. Of all the emotions he expected from his lover tonight, anger wasn't one of them.

They silently walked through the hospital, passing no one, out to their car. The months of being with Wilson had rubbed off on House in the sense of he now comes in on time so he and Wilson often ride in together.

The ride home was spent in quiet with the exception of a few gasps of pain whenever they hit a bump. While they had given Wilson some pain medicine it had only helped to dampen the pain when the shoulder was jarred. House ignored the sounds as much as he could knowing it would better just get home rather than try to tip-toe around the bumps.

They pulled up to the curb outside their place, parked and went inside. Wilson flung his coat off and onto the armchair by the door. House followed his example also depositing his backpack.

Not surprisingly Wilson walked immediately into the kitchen, taking out eggs, bacon and supplies for pancakes. Among loving to cook, Wilson used it as a stress reliever. He found it calming to escape the day and get lost in the magical arts of cooking; combining spices and ingredients and coming up with a wonderful potion such as House's favorites Macadamia Nut Pancakes. However, if he thought it was difficult to cook while standing on one leg it was infinitely harder to cook with one arm.

House walked in to the kitchen and silently began beating the eggs and batter then pouring them onto the pan. Wilson stood at the stove and awkwardly flipped and scrambled. Once prepared, they sat down at the table and ate. Being a left-hander in a right-handed world, Wilson was able to eat without making a mess, albeit not gracefully.

Once finished, House cleaned up as much as House ever does while Wilson went into the bedroom to change. He got his shoes and pants off easily enough but the finer things like socks and buttons he struggled with. He sat on the bed trying for a good 5 minutes until he heard a gruff chuckle behind him. Wilson turned around to find House leaning on the doorway, watching him with amusement in his eyes.

"I don't suppose you'd like to help rather than stand there and watch?" Wilson grumbled.

"No, I'm good." House replied still smiling. When Wilson just gave him a glare he gave a dramatic eye roll and limped over to Wilson's side of the bed and sat down. He undid the sling and set it aside, they wouldn't need it for the rest of the night. He inwardly winced at the sight of Wilson's swollen hand but didn't give any outward sign that he noticed as he began to undo the immobilizer for Wilson's shoulder. Wilson groaned whenever his shoulder was moved but didn't complain otherwise as House unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his good arm first then his injured one. By silent mutual agreement, they decided to leave Wilson's undershirt on tonight, he'd already had enough movement of his shoulder and didn't care if it meant he slept in an undershirt rather than a t-shirt.

House refastened the immobilizer and waited for Wilson to scoot onto the bed and lean against the headboard. Given that Wilson felt like sitting up for awhile versus laying down, House re-applied the sling and altered it so his hand was elevated higher than the rest. He then stood up and went and grabbed Wilson's meds, which the oncologist filled before coming to find Cuddy and House, and handed them to him along with a bottle of water. While Wilson took the meds, House changed into more comfortable clothing and then took his own meds.

Once House had climbed in bed, he scooted closer to Wilson, tugging on the younger man's shirt like a child. Wilson smiled at the tug, understanding it was House's way of letting him know he wanted to cuddle and telling him to lie down. They fell asleep in each other's arms, pain free and happy to be in each other's company after barely saying 20 words the entire time home.

* * *

Wilson woke to the alarm blaring and pain searing through his shoulder, arm, wrist and hand. He looked down to see House sprawled out over him, using his long and slender arms and legs to wrap around Wilson, protecting him. It would have made Wilson smile and shut the alarm off in favor of sleeping in had it not been that House's arm was strewn across his injured arm, which was still in its sling, applying pressure to the broken bones in it.

House starts jerking in his sleep, mumbling something about a "sadistic bastard" and "touch him again, I'll kill you." but otherwise doesn't say anything. Instead he curls himself around Wilson even tighter, causing a whimper of pain to escape the oncologist's mouth before he can suppress it.

House immediately wakes alert to Wilson's every sound especially if it's one of pain, and, after taking a quick look at himself, swiftly disentangles himself from Wilson with a hiss as his ruined thigh protests to the quick movement. "Sorry." He apologizes with a grimace of his own.

"It's fine. Are you ok?" Wilson asked cradling his left arm in his right.

"Fine." House answers as he pops his morning Vicodin. "It's time for your morning meds too." He lectures when he noticed Wilson watching him closely, lines of pain around his mouth and eyes.

Wilson eyes his friend closely before awkwardly reaching for the medicine that sat on the bedside table along with the unfinished bottle of water from last night. He's thankful that House left the lid of since he wouldn't be able to get it off by himself and grabs a couple, pops them in his mouth and grabs the bottle of water, quickly swallowing before the medicine starts to melt, leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "Are you ok?" He asks his partner once again. "You were dreaming something.. it sounded violent."

"It was nothing." House dismisses with a shake of his head before he quickly gets out of bed and limps into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Wilson just sighs, knowing his friend is almost literally running away from the topic but decides not to push it. Everyone's allowed their secrets, he'll allow House this.

When the pain diminishes to a muffled growl he decides it's time to get up and get ready as well. Normally he'd take a shower but in all honesty he just didn't want to deal with the amount of time and work that would have to go into making sure his arm was bagged so the cast didn't get wet and then the chance that he stream would accidentally beat down on his injured shoulder… Wilson grimaced at the thought and decided to forgo it in favor of awkwardly brushing his teeth and hair, applying a few drops of cologne in some well placed spots and changing his clothes. ALL of which would be done either awkwardly or with House's help.

Wilson eases himself up to where he's sitting on the edge of the bed and, upon noticing his work pants from the night before, decides that those are as a good a pair as any to wear. He works his feet into the pants before bending down to grab them with his right hand. He leaves them unbuttoned until he can get a dress shirt on (which WILL require House's help) thankful that they aren't too big otherwise they'd fall off and he'd have to start again. He walks in to the closet and picks out a shirt, laying it on the bed just as he hears the shower stop and limping footsteps.

House comes limping into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and immediately starts to get dressed. He knows he'll have to help Wilson dress, and more than likely shower, so he doesn't want to waste time being sluggish like he normally does every morning. He turns around to find Wilson half dressed and already starting to take his arm out of the sling, biting his lip with pain. By the time he notices he's already mostly dressed so he limps over to Wilson and helps to gently ease the sling and immobilizer off. "Do you want to change your undershirt?" He asks hoping he'd get a no but knowing it'd be a yes since Wilson was too much of a girl to go to work wearing the same underclothes as he was the day previous.

Wilson's head hangs down, resting against his chest for a few seconds before he lifts it and walks over to the dresser and pulls out a fresh shirt. "Yeah, thanks." He says knowing that that's all the thanks House will want for helping him.

House helps get the shirt off, getting Wilson's right arm out of the sleeve, slipping it over his head and then gently easing it off the injured left shoulder and arm. He frowns when he sees the bruising around Wilson's shoulder, extending down to his shoulder blade and bicep. He knew there would be bruising but it doesn't make seeing it any easier. Thankfully, Wilson's back is to him and his young friend doesn't have to see the concern that House hates letting show. He gets Wilson's clean shirt on via reversing the process and then slips his button-down shirt on the same way made slightly easier by the buttons.

Wilson spins around to face House, a little amazed at just how gently the diagnostician's hands could be if he wanted them to. House buttons up his shirt and then refastens the immobilizer on, earning a groan from Wilson, then adds the sling. Normally Wilson would object to the sling but his wrist is throbbing despite the pain medicine and his hand and fingers have been slowly swelling since he sat up.

Once the items are repositioned, Wilson gently pulls House in for a deep, loving kiss. They pull away after a minute and House resumes getting dressed while Wilson heads towards the kitchen to start the coffee before going to the bathroom to begin the grueling process of brushing his teeth and hair.

Even though he thinks it's a BAD idea, House doesn't comment on Wilson's insistence that he is well enough to go to work. While a dislocated shoulder and broken wrist aren't good reasons for staying home, the fact that it's the oncologist's dominant hand brings it closer. He won't be able to write at all and he can only type one-handed. Most of Wilson's job is writing; filling out charts and responding to consults. However, House knows that Wilson is fiercely loyal to his patients and doesn't want to put off their appointments with him so he says nothing but plans on being close by should his friend need something.

Wilson emerges from the bathroom looking his normal, well groomed self and slips into the kitchen for a mug of coffee before he and House start getting ready to leave. House helps him get his coat on and puts his own on before he rapidly goes into the kitchen, grabs something from the freezer and comes back to the door where Wilson is waiting with a confused look on his face. He smiles when he sees that in the older man's hand is an ice pack which is silently but gently placed on top of his casted wrist before they walk out the door and head towards PPTH.

He has a busy day of patient visits which he normally doesn't look forward to but as he really doesn't have much else he can do is excited for it. Hopefully he can get away with them being too focused in their own problems to ignore his injuries. He really doesn't want to spend a good portion of their visits trying to reassure them that he's fine.

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**_AN: Sorry it took me so long to update! I hate it when I wait for longer than a day but I was having trouble getting this chapter out. I hope you like it. Thank you so much for your glowing reviews!_**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

Wilson walked in to the hospital, ignoring all the looks curious he got from the other doctors, and headed straight for his office where he placed his things and went to grab a cup of coffee before his first appointment. He smiled after he walked into the diagnostics department and found that House was the only one there; the ducklings hadn't made it in yet. He really had rubbed off on the misanthropic doctor and not in a bad way either.

He grabbed a quick cup of coffee and then scurried back to his office, bumping in to his patient who had arrived early, knocked on his door, found it to be locked and was leaving. He hissed and groaned when he ran into her on his left side, jarring his broken wrist and injured shoulder and spilled scalding hot coffee over his right hand.

"Oh, Dr. Wilson!" Savannah, his patient, exclaimed surprised. Her surprise turned to concern when she noticed his bindings. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He answered with a smile, hoping to reassure her. He led her into his office, closing and locking the door and the balcony so as to avoid any unwanted interruptions in the form of House.

The smile must have turned into a grimace because she raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Are you sure? You still look like you're in pain." When he looked up at her with a quizzical look on his face she continued. "I'm a cancer patient. I know you're pain when what I see in the mirror every day is reflected in my doctor."

"Ah, well don't worry, I'm fine." Wilson placated. "Fell down the stairs yesterday." He dismissed as he began perusing her file. She looked like she didn't believe him but didn't argue either.

They sat in his office for an hour, talking about her current options, how she's been feeling and just giving her someone to talk to. The way Wilson saw it, being a counselor or therapist of sorts is part of the job since the disease is so taxing on the patient and they are often feeling alone. He can at least give them some sort of insight and advice based on what he sees and knows others go through every day. She left feeling a little bit better about her situation and gave him a gentle right-sided hug.

He walked her out needing a break and wanting to refill his coffee. What little he had in his cup after the spill, he drank during their meeting. His right hand was still red from the coffee but it no longer burned so much as dully throbbed and he could tell that the meds were wearing off since every step jarred his injured arm a touch and caused him to wince, managing only to do so with his eyes.

He grabbed his coffee cup and walked in to diagnostics. He stood in the doorway for a little while, waiting until the team had finished their DDX before he strolled in for the coffee which was always fresh.

"Dr. Wilson," Masters greeted shyly, "how are you?"

Just as he opened his mouth to answer in a dismissive but assuring way, House barked. "Masters! Wilson doesn't need you to hold his hand and try to make him feel better. Our patient on the other hand does so while you're there draw 3 vials of blood, get a urine and stool sample and an MRI."

Wilson looked at House who was staring at her with an expression bordering on annoyance but the rest wore smug looks on their faces before they all exited leaving Wilson and House alone.

"What happened to your hand?" House asked seemingly indifferent.

"Broke it remember?" Wilson answered sarcastically.

"No," House responded, the word _idiot_ hanging in the air, "the other one."

Wilson looked down at the red splotch that covered part of the back of his right hand and his wrist. "Spilled coffee, burned it." He answered with a one-shouldered shrug. He turned around to leave only to come up short so he didn't run House over. The man sure knew how to be quiet!

House took the coffee cup out of Wilson's hand and set it down on the glass table then picked up his hand, inspecting it. Wilson felt himself go a little weak as House softly ran his hands over Wilson's and then he almost purred when House brought the hand up to his mouth and started giving it loving little nibble-kisses.

"H-house." Wilson managed to get out before he gasped in pleasure as House put one of Wilson's fingers in his mouth and suckled gently. It shouldn't be THIS easy to get him going! "House, I've got a patient."

"When?" House answered as he continued his "examination" of Wilson's hand.

"T-ten minutes." Wilson choked out, wanting nothing more than to grab the man by his collar and drag him into the closest office.

"Perfect." House replied silkily. "We've got plenty of time."

Wilson pulled his hand out of House's grip and grabbed his friend's jaw to look at him directly. "No it isn't." He said with nothing but lust in his eyes. "Once I get going I'm going to want hours with you."

House sneered but not in a sleezy way. It was the sneer of a man who liked the idea. "I don't think you could last that long." He challenged gruffly as he came closer and bent down to nibble on Wilson's ear. He pulled back and limped (less heavily than he was a few minutes ago) back to his office. "Go." he said with a smirk.

"Manipulative bastard." Wilson commented with a loving smile before he picked up his cup of coffee and left.

* * *

Wilson had trouble focusing on his next 3 patients because of his little tête-à-tête with House. His body craved the contact with the older man, often distracting him from what was going on. Eventually he was able to get his last patient before lunch out the door and leaned against it heavily. His shoulder and wrist were starting to throb painfully in time with his heartbeat and he knew he needed to take his meds. He didn't want to do it with coffee however and since that was all he had he had to make another trip over to diagnostics to steal one of their bottles; he'd pay them back later.

He pocketed the pills, deposited his lab coat on the coat rack and left, locking his office door. He ducked into the conference room, grateful that everyone seemed to be out doing something, and grabbed a bottle of water. Wilson walked into House's darkened office and sat down in his recliner. He took the meds and sat back to relax for a bit, feeling his eyes grow heavier and heavier. Wilson hadn't realized how drained he felt and soon found himself asleep.

* * *

House walked in to his office only mildly surprised to find Wilson asleep in his chair, snoring slightly. His eyebrows were knitted together in pain and every time he moved he'd let out a small moan of complaint. House took this opportunity to examine his friend. He hadn't been around much today, both having been busy with their patients, and earlier he'd meant to examine Wilson's hand and arm but his mind and body ran away with out him.

He stood a little closer, examining Wilson's injured arm and shoulder. The hand and fingers were swollen, even with the sling helping to elevate them, and after some gentle prodding he could tell that the shoulder was as well.

House limped into the conference room and grabbed two instant ice packs, daring his team to comment or question him, and then returned, activating them and placing one over Wilson's shoulder and the other over his casted wrist. Wilson gave a shudder and then a small moan of contentment but didn't wake. House took the lab coat, that he never wore but kept in his office "just in case", and threw it over the sleeping oncologist then called Julia, Wilson's assistant, and asked her to clear Wilson's schedule for the rest of the day; he wasn't feeling well and would be going home after he had a short nap. Once he was sure that Wilson was comfortable, House locked his office door so no one could enter and wake the slumbering man and then walked in to the conference room.

He stayed close to the door, guarding it in case anyone wanted to enter. The ducklings could tell by House's body language that if anyone tried to enter they'd be stuck doing clinic duty for a week.

They finished their differential quickly, ending with House giving orders as usual and taking the patient file into his office to work. Though he would never admit it out loud, a good portion of the reason he was completing the patient file in his office was to stand watch over Wilson, guarding him and protecting him. It was an impulse he had been having lately and most of the time it took all of his willpower not to give in but sitting behind his desk, staring at his partner who looked so vulnerable whilst sleeping House gave in easily, standing guard like a pit bull over its master.

When he finished his filing, he proceeded to play his PSP for awhile, not wanting to wake Wilson but not wanting to leave either. Periodically one of the ducklings, mostly Taub or Foreman, would duck inside the conference room and get his attention to update him and get new ideas or instructions but they were smart enough not to enter the office.

3 hours after House had found him asleep, Wilson woke up. He groggily looked around, not having remembered falling asleep in House's office, and then focused on the man behind the desk. House sat behind his desk, his feet on top of the desk, seemingly playing his PSP but he kept watching Wilson with eyes smoldering with protectiveness. "House?" he asked, bringing the other man out of his reverie.

"Good morning sleeping beauty!" House greeted, his voice cheerful but his eyes still glowing fireless.

"How long have I been asleep?" Wilson asked, slowly sitting upright from his slouched position. His muscles ached, letting him know that they had been in that position awhile.

"About 3hrs." House answered absentmindedly looking at his watch.

"What? House you should have woken me up! I had patients I was supposed to meet with. Didn't Julia come looking for me?" Wilson asked flustered that he had missed the patient meetings.

"I cleared your schedule while you were asleep so no, you didn't have any meetings and no, Julia didn't come looking for you." House answered. "Cuddy has been trying to call you though. Your staff informed her of the schedule change and like a good administrator she was worried about her Head of Oncology." House continued mockingly.

Wilson let out a heavy sigh as he used his one good hand to scrub his face and massage his neck. "I should call her. Apologize for falling asleep and having others take over for me."

"Nope." House answered. "No need. She's not mad because you "flaked" on your job. She's worried and insisted that you go home once you woke. She even gave me the rest of the day off as well. She said to let her know if you want tomorrow off as well." House rattled while he walked over to the chair and sat down on the ottoman, examining Wilson with a practiced eye. He still looked exhausted and if he had a guess, House would say that the pain meds had worn off judging by the pain in his eyes.

Wilson nodded, standing up and almost falling down from lack of energy.

"Wilson?" House asked, annoyed that he couldn't keep the concern out of his voice.

"I'm fine, just stood up too fast. Guess I'm more tired than I thought." He offered with a small chuckle.

House continued to examine him and then nodded. "Stay here. I'll grab your things and then we can leave. The ducklings can handle things for the rest of the night." Wilson gave a sleepy nod and settled back into the chair, asleep before his head hit the chair. House gave a sad smile. He was glad that he was able to take care of Wilson and provide the man some degree of comfort but he hated that it had to be done.

House left his office via the balcony door after posting a sign on the conference room door that read "ENTER UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH". He hopped over the wall and stepped inside Wilson's office. He shut down the computer and grabbed the coat, opting to leave the briefcase and files that it would contain there; he wasn't going to allow Wilson to work tonight either.

House hopped back over the wall and re-entered his office, Wilson still asleep. He sat behind his desk once again and debated whether or not to wake the exhausted oncologist. He was torn between letting Wilson get another couple of hours of sleep, it was only 330p after all, or just waking him up and getting him home so he could sleep uninterrupted in a comfortable bed.

The bed won out and House gathered his own things, slipped his coat on and woke the slumbering man. Wilson woke groggy and still clearly exhausted. House helped him put his coat on, Wilson giving sleepy gasps and hisses of pain when the heaviness of the coat settled on his sore shoulder, and then marched his friend out the doors of the hospital and into the car where he proceeded to fall asleep again.

They repeated the process of the march to get into the condo and the bedroom where Wilson stood beside the bed like a half asleep statue. House just rolled his eyes, "God you're needy." He complained to his lover who only responded with a sleepy mumble. He undressed Wilson as gently as he could but given that his meds had worn off, he was in a fair amount of pain every time his shoulder was moved.

Once Wilson was changed and settled in bed, House actually woke Wilson, wanting him to be completely awake so he could take his pain meds.

Wilson looked around the bedroom, confused about how he got there but took the meds willingly, his shoulder burned with throbbing pain. As he took his meds, he watched House changed into more comfortable clothing and climb in bed with him. Wilson put the cup of water that House had handed him on the bedside table and snuggled closer to House, the diagnostician coiling himself around Wilson like a snake. Wilson fell asleep instantly with House's warmth to comfort him and House fell asleep soon after knowing he was there standing guard.

* * *

**_AN: Here we are everyone. A little loving H/W and a little protective House. Such a wonderful mix!_**


	15. Chapter 15

**_Rating: NC17 OR M for slash-sex. Young eyes be warned!

* * *

_**

**Chapter 15:**

House was the first to wake. He looked at the clock and noticed they had been asleep for 4hrs when his stomach began to growl. He ignored it in favor of snuggling with Wilson a bit longer, gently pulling him in as much as he could. Wilson groaned in pleasure as House's warmth seeped into him, causing House to smile widely. House's stomach growled again, more loudly this time. Clearly it would not be denied.

"House," Wilson asked sleepily, "is that your stomach or do we have a bear in bed with us?" He joked.

House rolled his eyes, "That was one of the worst jokes you've ever said which is saying something considering, you know, it's you."

Wilson chuckled. "Do you want me to make you something?"

"No!" House answered a little more harshly than he meant. "You will be doing nothing tonight but staying in bed. Your body is clearly exhausted by last night's "excitement" and today's struggle of fighting the pain and keeping upright." House loosened himself from Wilson, grudgingly, and grabbed his cell phone that had been lying on his bedside table. "Luckily for us, I have the take out on speed dial. Thai sound good?"

Wilson's stomach gave a growl in response and he just smiled. "I guess so."

House gave a nod then called and ordered the take out, getting up and grabbing a cup of water. He brought the water back to the bed and handed it, along with a couple more of the pain meds, to Wilson. "Here, I don't want you whimpering like a beaten dog once the pain kicks in." He commented, both men knowing that wasn't the reason.

Wilson took the meds gratefully. Though House didn't know it, the pain had begun immediately when he woke up and he was getting close to desperate for some relief. "Thanks, so how long til the food gets here?" He asked.

"45 minutes." House answered, climbing back in bed.

"How will we ever pass the time?" Wilson asked faking indecision. He reached out his good hand and pulled House close to him, planting a long kiss full of desire and lust on him. House responded immediately, returning the kiss with little nips and nibbles on his lips and tongue, his hand roaming over Wilson's body. Wilson pulled back, "Maybe I should lose the sling and immobilizer huh?" He suggested.

"The sling, yes; the immobilizer, no. If we get rid of the immobilizer you'll be tempted to use your arm which will do nothing but cause pain and ruin the mood and since you can't really use that hand anyways, it's best to leave it there." House answered logically in between kisses to Wilson's neck and nibbles on his ear. "However, we do need to lose the clothing." House suggested as he began peeling off Wilson's pants and underwear.

Wilson chuckled deep in his throat. "You do realize we'll have to take off the immobilizer for that right?"

"Yes but I can always re-attach it." House replied as he slid down to Wilson's groin and gently kissed and nibbled his penis. Wilson let out a gasp and groan of pleasure, resisting the urge to thrust his hips forward.

House slid back up, straddling Wilson so that his leg hung off the side of the bed, and began to undo Wilson's bindings and take off his shirt. He left the immobilizer off while he gently kissed the deep bruising on Wilson's shoulder and collar bone while his hands gently massaged the younger man's other bicep. In the logical part of House's mind, he knew that a person couldn't kiss a hurt and make it feel better but it still made him feel better to try to do it all the same. He refastened the immobilizer and continued the exploration of Wilson's body with his mouth.

Wilson did his best to try to get House undressed but it didn't work. "Take off your clothes." He demanded instead. House smirked but followed the instructions, taking as long as he possibly could to do so; teasing Wilson with the prospect of pleasure. Once undressed, Wilson couldn't take it anymore and pounced on House, being careful of the older man's ruined thigh. He returned House's exploration and added gentle nips on sensitive but pleasurable places.

As he did so, he gently maneuvered House so that one leg was off the bed and the other lay on it; giving him room to kneel on the floor, throw House a sultry look and then take House into his mouth.

Wilson gently bobbed up and down House's penis, using his leg muscles instead of his hands. He would give a small nip or nibble along the side and tip, earning moans and shudders of pleasure from House. He gently sucked and used his tongue to explore House's tip and slit, tasting the pre-cum.

"Fuck James." House moaned as he thrust deep into Wilson's throat. "I..Ahhahh." He moaned and whined, begging for more.

Wilson went deeper on House's penis, sucking harder and gently raking his teeth along the shaft. House kept thrusting his hips, moving himself further down Wilson's throat; moaning, whimpering and shuddering with pleasure.

Wilson placed his good hand on House's left thigh, massaging it while he massaged House's dick with his mouth. He moved his hand down to House's balls, fondling them while he kept sucking harder and harder on his dick. House gasped in pure pleasure, "God James!" He exclaimed and Wilson recognized what was coming. House exploded in his mouth and he swallowed everything House gave happily. He waited another minute, letting the heat from his mouth relax the previous erect penis and then pulled away.

He used his good arm to pull himself up from off the floor, using the bed for leverage. Wilson's legs felt shaky having not been used like that before but he made it to the other side of the bed where he promptly collapsed onto it, giving a wince when he gave no thought to how gentle he should be and put pressure on his shoulder. "So, you think I'm God huh?" He quipped with a smile.

"Shut up and come here." House answered, using his strong right arm to pull Wilson closer. He cuddled with the younger man for a little while but began to kiss his shoulder, moving over to the collar bone, up to the neck and eventually to Wilson's ear lobe, nibbling it softly and sucking. Wilson moaned deep in his throat and House felt his lover's erection rubbing against his own thigh.

He pulled back, giving Wilson a sultry look and moved his way down; kissing, nibbling, nipping, licking and sucking his entire way down. His hands massaged Wilson's thighs and erection while he slowly worked his way down.

Wilson whimpered in pleasure, placing his right hand down on the bed, clenching and releasing the blanket trying to control his impulse to rub House's hand raw. GOD he wanted House desperately but his useless arm would prevent him from getting House that way for a few days, if not weeks thanks to his wrist. He thrust his hips in response to his frustration, earning a smile from House.

"Slow down, love. We've got all night." House crooned silkily. He knew how Wilson loved it when he was uber-affectionate while making love and had no problems obliging. He often felt like he was only really able to be who HE wanted to be while making love. Wilson purred in response and slowed down his thrust to gentle suggestions.

House stopped his petting and looked at Wilson. "Sit up against the headboard." He demanded sweetly. Wilson cocked his head to the left slightly but obeyed curiously. Once he was comfortable House used his hands to gently spread Wilson's legs, dragging the left one off the bed where he knelt down and returned Wilson's favor.

He began slowly, gently nibbling and suckling Wilson's penis into his mouth watching the fire of lust burn in Wilson's brown eyes, melting the chocolate color that is in them to a honey brown. House moved faster up and down Wilson's erection, using his arms instead of his legs to fuel his motions. He alternated sucking strengths, using his tongue to tickle and massage the muscle. He gently nibbled the tip eliciting a cry of pleasure from Wilson as his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head with ecstasy.

House used his hands to massage Wilson's thighs which trembled beneath his touch and moved his right hand down to the testicles, fingering and massaging them in time with his sucking. He gave them a hard, but pleasurable squeeze while he used his teeth to gently rake Wilson's penis, dragging them up it as he went up and using his lips to envelop and massage it as he went down.

"Fuck Greg!" Wilson cried out in a moan. "Damn you're so good at this." He whined in his throat, wanting more, gently thrusting deeper into House's throat.

House repeated the combination of drag and massage a few more times, each time eliciting a whine, whimper, moan or cry of pure relentless pleasure. "Damn Greg, I, Ahhahahh.." his sentence was cut off by another moan, "don't know..oh..oh..oh..oh" he panted, moaned and shuddered, "how much longer, I can.. wait!" And with that Wilson let loose, fucking House's throat with fervor and releasing a long moan, keening deep in his throat before he exploded in House's mouth.

House gave Wilson a minute before he pulled away and got himself back onto the bed, cuddling Wilson tightly; both men panting from the exertion their bodies just went through.

"Damn." Wilson whispered, panting still. "That was just, damn."

House laughed a deep throaty laugh. "I'm glad you enjoyed it because that was a once in a lifetime thing. Don't go expecting that every time."

Wilson laughed in response, "The same goes for you too."

"But honey.." House whined drawing out laughs from the both of them while they curled up with each other, cuddling and bringing the blankets over their naked selves.

They lay like that for the next minutes not even aware of how much time has passed, listening to the breathing of the other before they succumbed to the exhaustion of their bodies and fell asleep.

* * *

A knock on the door was the next thing that they were aware of. Wilson groaned but House gave no outward sign that he heard. Wilson looked at House, still obviously asleep, and smiled. Their festivities earlier must have truly worn the diagnostician out, leaving him to get up and get the food.

He eased out of House's arms, taking extra care not to wake his lover, and got dressed; undoing the immobilizer so he could use his arm and thread it through a shirt sleeve, hissing at the pain it brought but otherwise remaining quiet.

Wilson padded barefoot to the door, looking like he had just woken up from a 10 hour nap instead of a 10 minute nap and sex. The delivery person raised their eyebrows but otherwise made no comment as to his appearance. He awkwardly signed for the food, making sure to tip them, accepted it and closed the door with his foot.

He put the food on the counter in the kitchen and began taking out plates. "Was that the food?" House's voice asked from behind him.

Wilson jumped, flinching when he threw up his arms in exasperation. "House, next time could you warn me? Cough or something?"

House smirked, "It was more fun this way." He answered studying Wilson. "Why aren't you wearing the immobilizer?"

"I had to take it off to get dressed so I could get the food." Wilson explained while he spooned some food from each container onto the two plates.

Without comment, House padded back into the bedroom and reappeared a minute later. He was fully dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and carrying the immobilizer. "Turn around." He instructed as he began to re-apply it. He grabbed the plates and placed them on the table while Wilson grabbed silverware, placing it quickly on the table and then grabbed napkins.

They began eating peacefully, each man focused on his meal rather than conversation until a question that Wilson had been meaning to ask came to his head. "So, what happened to Cavanaugh?"

House stopped dead in his tracks, fork halfway to his mouth, and eyed Wilson critically. "Why does it matter?"

"Come on, just because YOU don't care what happens to your attackers doesn't mean I don't. Besides, I'm curious." Wilson reasoned.

House gave a shrug, "He was arrested on assault and sent to jail to await sentencing. You'll probably need to be there for that."

"Oh." Wilson answered in a small voice. He hadn't thought about that. He really did NOT want to see Cavanaugh again but if it meant it would keep the man behind bars or in a psych ward than on the streets he'd have to just suck it up. He hadn't been watching what he was doing and accidentally cut his finger instead of the meat on his plate. "Ow!" He said as he brought the finger to his mouth.

"That's why you shouldn't try to cut meat with a broken hand and wrist." House scolded lightly, watching him with amusement. "Speaking of which, I got your test results back yesterday!"

Wilson scrunched his eyes and jerked his head minutely to the left and right in a "where did that come from?" way. "How is that a speaking of which?" He asked confused.

"The dripping blood actually reminded me." House answered impatiently.

"Ah, ok, continue." Wilson prompted with a majestic wave of his hand.

"Have you noticed any weakness or pain in your knee, ankle and/or wrist over that passed few years?" House asked clinically.

Wilson gave him a confused look but answered, interested to see where this was going though he thought he knew. "Yeah but who hasn't when they're getting older?"

"True," House conceded, "but usually it doesn't lead to favoring the affected joint or joints, which you have been doing."

"Wait, you've noticed when I've been aching?" Wilson asked not fully understanding WHY he's so shocked when it's House he's talking to. "Then why did you even ask me?"

"Just wanted to see if you'd admit it." House dismissed with a sigh while he got up, gathered their plates and placed them in the sink. He came back to the table and sat down. "You have Osteoarthritis." He blurted out. "That's why it was so easy for you to do serious damage to your knee and why your ankle is always weak and aching and why your wrist snapped so easily."

"It didn't feel easy." Wilson grumbled, absentmindedly rubbing his casted wrist and shuddering at the feel of it breaking.

House reached over and grabbed his hand, bringing Wilson out of his thoughts. "I know it didn't," he soothed, "but the fact is that it snapped way too easily for the amount of pressure that Cavanaugh was applying and the amount of slack that allowed your arm to give more than it normally should have."

Wilson drew in a ragged breath, trying to put House's analysis out of his head. "How far along is it?" He asked merely for something to say. He wasn't really that worried about it right now.

"If the ducklings hadn't known it was your X-Rays and MRI images they were looking at, they would have thought you were 60. In fact, they did think you were a 60 year old man until I told them it was you." House replied thoughtfully joking. "It explains why you limp on your right side and why your wrist hurts so much after a lot of use."

"I don't limp on my right side and since when has my wrist ever hurt that much after a lot of use?" Wilson argued. He knew House was right but he still wanted to know how House knew.

House rolled his eyes and gave Wilson a "it's me you're talking about" look. "The limp may not be noticeable to others since you're generally walking with a limping twerp," House's eyes sparkled at the term, "but it's noticeable to me. It gets more pronounced the more time you spend on your feet and/or walking around." Wilson just stared at him so he continued. "In the winter it's easy to hide that your wrist is hurting after a long day; you have your coat and gloves to cover up the brace that you put on an hour before you leave. The rest of the time it's hard and though you try, I do still notice it."

House's last statement made Wilson blush. "I wasn't trying to hide it, it just wasn't important." He said, trying to shrug it off.

House gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "If you're in pain, it's important because you're important. Got it?" He asked in all seriousness. "Well, more than a scratch or something, I don't care about that so much." He joked trying to lighten the cheesiness of what he had said.

Wilson blinked back the tears that threatened to fall and the complete earnestness in House's voice. "That goes for you too you know?" He countered, voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm always in pain." House dismissed.

"That doesn't mean that I don't want to know when it's worse. Just because YOU don't want to take care of you doesn't mean that I don't." Wilson argued. He leaned halfway in for a kiss, waiting for House to come the other half which he did instantly. They shared a long kiss and then pulled back, panting slightly.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed. Got to make sure Jimmy has his beauty rest if he wants to go in to work tomorrow." House mocked after he noticed Wilson's eyes becoming heavy again. "Invalid." He joked.

"Cripple." Wilson automatically quipped without malice as he and House walked into the bedroom.

"Manipulative bitch." House snarked right back while he helped Wilson get dressed, take his meds and get in bed. House automatically did the same thing, snuggling closer to Wilson.

"Limping Twerp." Wilson responded with ease. "But you're MY limping twerp and that's all that matters." He amended while he nuzzled his nose against House's neck.

House rolled his eyes that he swore Wilson could hear since the oncologist laughed. "Just go to sleep you hopeless romantic."

Wilson breathed out a contented but sleepy sigh, "K. Goodnight House. Love you."

House waited until Wilson's breathing evened out, "Good night Wilson. I love you too." He whispered to the dark before falling into a deep, happy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**_AN: There we are everyone. I know that the results of the test didn't come as a shock to some (or most) of you but that was my attempt at a medical mystery. LOL Hence why I don't do them. :o) I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did; it's the first chapter I've felt good about posting in awhile. More to come, I promise!_**


	16. Chapter 16

**_AN: I apologize for the lack of reality with the judicial and medical systems. I'm no where near in the medical nor judicial field! Sorry for taking so long to write it but here is the next chapter. I hope it was worth the wait!

* * *

_**

**Chapter 16:**

Wilson lay on the couch in his office, massaging his temples and trying to get through patient dictations. It had been a VERY busy day and this was his first chance for a break; he'd managed to grab some lunch but only because his assistant Julia grabbed it and the patient he had been meeting with insisted that he eat it then rather than wait.

His head had begun to ache sometime around mid-day and it had progressed from a mere tension headache to a migraine. He had just turned off all but one light (which was as far away from him as possible) and he forwarded his calls to voicemail, hoping he could get some peace and quiet to get rid of the migraine so he could go home.

House and Wilson had taken separate vehicles this morning. House had a patient that had decided to escape the hospital at 4a, leaving the ducklings to call him in and help search though Wilson was sure it was just payback for making them stay there.

Wilson could ask House to give him a ride home, he knew the diagnostician wouldn't mind given the circumstances, but not only did House ride the bike in this morning but he was busy with a patient and Wilson didn't want to bother him. So instead he lay on the couch, hiding from the world. He gave up trying to massage his migraine away and tossed the patient file and recorder on the floor in favor for a pillow over his head to muffle the sounds of the outside world.

He cringed when he heard his office door fly open, banging into the wall and rebounding closed. The angry _step thump_ gave away who it was even though Wilson didn't doubt it; he knew House was the only one who would barge into his office like that.

"House-"

"Can you believe it?" House growled. "What are they thinking? Well, of course they're not! They think like Cuddy, with their wallets!" He raged, bringing tears to Wilson's eyes with the volume of his voice.

Wilson silently cried into the pillow. House's yelling had driven up the pounding in his head from jackhammers to sledgehammers trying to pound his skull into fine powder. "House, either shut up or get out." Wilson told him, whimpering quietly at the sound of House's and his own voice while waving pathetically towards the door.

"How can you be so calm about this?" House yelled some more, confusing Wilson. "Are you seriously telling me that you aren't at all concerned because Cavanaugh got out, bail and sentencing paid for by his father?" He grilled, stopping short when he heard a whimper and a sniffle coming from the couch. House had been pacing and not paying attention to the prone figure on the couch with a pillow over its head. "Wilson?" He said more gently. House looked around the room, taking in the lack of light and sound and the pillow sandwich Wilson had made out of his head. "Migraine?" He asked quietly, walking up to the couch and pulling a chair closer then sitting himself down in it.

"Yeah." Wilson replies to the pillow over his face figuring it'd be less painful than nodding his head, though not by much.

"Take anything for it?"

"Some Excedrin an hour ago." Wilson doesn't get a response to his answer but hears House quietly _step thump_ his way out of the office. Confused but in too much pain to do anything about it, Wilson stays lying on his couch. He hears the office door open and close quietly, then lock. He hears the rustle of fabric, though he can't tell if it's just House moving around or actually manipulating other fabric somehow. The pillow is gently pulled of his face and he squints against the brightness of his office compared to the darkness of the pillow before he allows his eyes to slit open, staring into loving cerulean blue eyes.

"Here." House says while placing an ice cold cloth over Wilson's aching head then wipes the mostly dried tears of his cheeks.

The oncologist stays quiet for a while, House willing to let the silence linger, until he feels the coolness of the cloth sooth the over-throbbing temples. He lets out a small moan of pleasure and allows the rest of his upper torso to relax. Wilson lays there quietly for a few more minutes before what House was ranting about registers. "Cavanaugh got released?" He asks more than a little annoyed that the psychotic doctor was allowed to be let go.

House nods, "Yeah. Daddy's money helped buy him a "barely there sentence", a slap on the wrist and bail." He said with disdain dripping from his quiet voice.

Wilson didn't reply, merely gave a minute nod of his head. It had been 4 weeks since the attack and, being so completely swamped with work, Wilson hadn't noticed that no one had called him in for the sentencing or a hearing. At House's pushing, prodding and urging he had filed charges which had kept Cavanaugh in jail for at least a week but each time House or Wilson had asked about the sentencing and how long they could expect Cavanaugh to be in jail, the policemen would evade their questions; they knew who the man in the jail was and that he wouldn't be staying in there long.

"We should get you home." House said, interrupting Wilson's silent thoughts.

"Don't you have a patient?" Wilson asked not really wanting to move.

"Yeah but that's why I have a team." House replied grinning evilly. "Come on."

"Just leave me here for a while longer, alright?" Wilson asked, almost pleadingly. "The cold cloth helped but the migraine isn't gone fully and I don't really want to move."

House's mouth pulled down in the corners slightly, indicating a frown though others wouldn't have seen it at all. "You can't stay here all night." He stated.

"Thank you captain obvious." Wilson replied sarcastically, closing his eyes still not moving.

House rolled his eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine, stay there. I'll go check on the ducklings, make sure they didn't kill our patient yet and be back in a couple hours with Sumatriptan." He said before he got up and quietly left, placing a hotel's Do Not Disturb sign on the outside handle.

_Finally!_ Wilson thought as he left himself relax, eventually falling into a restless sleep.

* * *

House was as good as his word. 3 hours later he walked quietly back into Wilson's office bearing a shot of Sumatriptan and a cup of water. He gently nudged the sleeping man awake then he quickly administered the drug, handing him cup of water to rehydrate himself.

They waited for a few minutes for the drug to kick in which time House painfully and grumpily gathered Wilson's things. When Wilson decided that he felt better, not great but better, they made the painful journey home.

By the time they got to the condo, House was exhausted and his leg was hurting extra and Wilson was feeling better, though his braced wrist was aching from half holding House up. A mad family member of his patient noticed House's weakness and kicked in exactly the right spot, causing excruciating pain and leaving House barely able to hold himself up.

House collapsed on the couch, refusing to go anywhere further until his 3 Ibuprofen, 2 Vicodin and 1 drink of scotch kicked in, leaving Wilson to gladly prepare dinner. He made pizza knowing House wouldn't be up for moving from the couch til it was time for bed. He figured he'd also get some good PT in for his wrist by kneading the dough.

While the pizza baked, Wilson went and grabbed the heating pad for House's leg; silently plugging it in and wrapping it around the injured limb. He knew that if he waited for House's approval he'd never get it so he took the initiative instead. The oven buzzed letting him know that it was time to pull the pizza out, diverting his attention from what he was doing. The timer scared him, causing him to jerk House's leg.

House sucked in his breath and grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be Wilson's injured and non-braced (thanks to the pizza) wrist, squeezing the life out of it. Two tears dropped out of his eyes, unnoticed by the man himself and Wilson wanted nothing more than to apologize profusely and wipe them off but he feared that if he tried House would grab a hold of his hand and try to break it with his vice-like grip.

Once the heating pad helped calm the pain, House let go of Wilson; allowing the oncologist to go to the kitchen and awkwardly and painfully take the pizza out of the oven. He tried not to let any sound of pain escape his lips, knowing that House was in far superior pain than he. His wrist throbbed heatedly. House's handprint outlined in red with some bruising in the fingertips covered it. Wilson slipped the brace back on, knowing he'd need it to carry the plates of food, and brought House a slice of pizza wondering if he'd actually eat it.

House looked up from the plate that had been set in his lap to Wilson, looking shocked to find Wilson was there. It didn't surprise the younger man since House had taken enough drugs and alcohol to barely register where he was at the moment. However, he did scarf up the pizza slice and then took the second piece that Wilson had put on his own plate for House and ate it as well.

When the meal had finished and House seemed like he was going to fall asleep, Wilson cleared the plates and took them into the kitchen (he'd do them after he got House to bed). He walked into the living room, shutting off the tv and gathering the sleepy, drunk AND high diagnostician up and helped him into the bedroom and onto the bed.

Once House was settled, Wilson walked back into the kitchen to begin cleaning up. He was glad that House had lowered the amount of Vicodin he'd been taking, it would help save his liver some but what Wilson wished most was that House wouldn't have a need for it at all.

He didn't hold Stacy responsible, unlike House, since it was technically just something that happened and the doctors, having never experienced something like this, just didn't diagnose it correctly. A lot of the time Wilson found himself wishing that HE could take the burden for House but didn't know if he'd be any better at it or stronger than House was. House had an inner strength that most dismissed, not bothering to look deeper than the self-centered, arrogant, misanthropic bastard they saw on the surface. He knew that House dealt with his injury with grace. If others had House's thigh, they would be so much worse off than being misanthropic (though House had always been like that) and addicted to painkillers; they'd probably have OD'd on Morphine and wouldn't have lasted a month before they begged the surgeon to just cut the damn leg off.

Wilson closed up the dishwasher and glanced at the dishes he didn't dare put in there like knives and a few pots and pans. He pulled them out of the sink and began to hand-wash them. He was exhausted, his head had begun to pound again and he wanted nothing more than to go to bed but if he left them sitting in the sink all night, THAT'S all he'd think about.

Once the dreaded dishes were done he grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and a towel from the handle of the fridge and walked into the bedroom, placing the ice pack on the bedside table until he was ready for it. He quickly changed, cringing every time he put pressure on his wrist and climbed in bed. Wilson placed the toweled ice pack on top of his sore wrist, laying the affected hand on top of his stomach while he waited for the cooling numbness to take effect.

When his wrist was nice and numb, Wilson placed the ice pack on top of his forehead. He could feel the headache building to a migraine and hoped the cold would stop it before it got too bad and he couldn't sleep. He left it laying there for a few minutes and then tossed it onto the bedside table. He closed his eyes and let sweet sleep take him.

* * *

The next morning, House felt better; not great but better. Wilson dragged him into work, telling him he could probably get away with just sitting in his office the entire day; Wilson would even work his clinic hours to appease Cuddy. House grudgingly agreed, liming and leaning heavily on his cane.

Once through the doors, the men didn't see each other the rest of the day. House was busy hiding in his office, trying to stay off his leg and Wilson was busy with his normal caseload plus House's 3 hours of clinic.

By the time Wilson was able to sit down and relax it was passed 6 o'clock and he hadn't eaten except the gallon of coffee he'd had to keep him going. _Today would have been a good day to be drugged! _He thought as he collapsed on the couch, spreading his long body across it. He groaned when a knock came but granted the access.

Not surprisingly it was Chase. "House needs a consult."

Wilson let out a long-suffering sigh and reluctantly got his aching body off the couch. He listed slightly to the left and put a hand out on the wall to keep him upright until his blood pressure adapted.

"Are you alright?" Chase asked, inching toward him read to catch him if he fell.

"Yeah." He smiled tiredly. "Just stood up too fast."

Chase nodded, not believing him for a minute, and walked out heading for diagnostics. Wilson followed, limping slightly. He had been on his feet and walking around for the passed 6 hours and his ankle and knee were throbbing.

He walked into the conference room and leaned against the door frame. Chase, Foreman, Masters and Taub were sitting at the conference table staring at House who stood by the white board. He seemed like his leg was feeling a lot better which made Wilson breathe a sigh of relief.

House spun around to look at Wilson. "Ah, Wilson good! Need you to look at these films." He said cheerily.

Wilson almost gave House a disgusted look, annoyed that his partner was feeling great while he felt like crap, but refrained and offered a smile. He limped into the room to gather the films, holding them up to the light for a couple of minutes before he put the back down. "Could be cancer. Do a biopsy."

House studied Wilson, unhappy with what he was seeing. He turned to the ducklings, "You heard him, go biopsy the lymph node! Chase, go to the cafeteria and grab a turkey sandwich, a salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette dressing and a bottle of water." Instructed, surprising ALL of them by tossing his wallet at Chase who caught it in one swift motion.

Once they left, House walked up to Wilson; taking him gently by the arm and guiding him to the office and onto the recliner. Wilson let out a small hiss when he bent his knee to sit down and flexed a muscle in his ankle.

House's stare sharpened, wondering which issue to address first. "You idiot." He said. "When was the last time you ate?" He scolded as he sat down on the corner of the ottoman and gently lifted Wilson's right leg onto it since Wilson didn't seem inclined to do it himself. He ran his hands gingerly over Wilson's knee and down to his ankle, inwardly wincing when he felt the inflamed tissue beneath. Wilson helping him had cost the oncologist.

"Uh," Wilson replied, hissing when House's hands hit particularly tender spots, "Dinner last night I think." He replied wearily.

Chase walked back in handing the bag of food and the bottle of water to House before he exited again to go to the lab. House opened the bottle of water and handed it to Wilson. "Drink." He commanded. "You're probably dehydrated from all the coffee that coursed through your system today." He reasoned while he pulled out the sandwich and also handed it to Wilson, noticing how his hands slightly shook from his blood sugar dropping.

While Wilson ate his sandwich and rehydrated, House went and grabbed a couple of ice packs and placed them over Wilson's knee and ankle; the cold would help soothe the aching joints.

House saw Wilson's eyes close briefly in relief before he went to sit behind his desk. Wilson had overworked his body trying to take care of House last night and today, making sure he didn't need to do anything but sit in his office. House took advantage of that and did nothing but bark orders at the ducklings, get a massage, and stay off his leg; leading to being able to get around as easily as usual. However, it meant that Wilson wouldn't be doing too well tonight. Granted he wouldn't be too bad off but he would be hurting yet stubborn about it and hard to keep still once they got home.

The office door opened, admitting a slender woman with chocolate brown hair and honey brown eyes. House immediately recognized her as Julia, Wilson's assistant. "Excuse me, Dr. Wilson." She interrupted the silence politely, clearly not wanting to have to bother him at all.

"Yes Julia." He answered, inwardly groaning.

"Savannah his on the phone and desperate to speak with you." She answered. "I've tried to explain that you were heading home but she kept insisting that I get you."

"That's ok. Thanks. I'll be in my office in 1 minute; transfer her then." He replied trying to soothe her unease. She left and Wilson took off the ice packs and lowered his leg, wincing as he bent it. "Thanks for the sandwich. It was just what I needed." He appeased his lover while he slowly stood up and lightly limped out.

House wasn't happy that Wilson had to take the call but since there was nothing he could do about it he replaced Wilson in his recliner, turning on his iPod and PSP to wait.

* * *

Wilson limped into his office and sat down behind his desk. He waited for the call to come through and picked it up immediately. He was shocked to hear not Savannah but her husband who curtly informed him that he and his wife were on their way to the hospital via ambulance; Savannah had been in a bad car accident and the EMT's didn't know if she'd make it.

Wilson gave a long sigh as he hung up the phone. He could tell the husband wasn't happy with it taking him so long to get to the phone but he wasn't going to apologize for that unless it was directly discussed. He leaned forward on his desk, elbows on the desk and head in his hands. This was going to be a long night!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

The next morning House walked into PPTH alone. Wilson had stopped by his office last night to tell him that he wouldn't be going home any time soon tonight and for House to go home. House had tried to make sure that Wilson was sure he'd be at the hospital all night because they had taken the same car that morning and if Wilson should change his mind, he'd be stuck at the hospital because House wasn't coming and getting him. Of course, House did all this in his own sarcastic way but Wilson had gotten the message.

House stopped by Wilson's office to check and see if the oncologist was there; he was, asleep on his couch. He decided to let the younger doctor sleep for a little while longer, House was early anyways. He wanted to get there early to make sure that if he had to wake Wilson up, he would have plenty of time to change and get some coffee and maybe a bagel before his day started.

He walked into his office, dumping his stuff on top of his desk then headed for the conference room and grabbed a cup of coffee. House took his time drinking it, letting the caffeine seep into his veins and revive him. Once he was finished he grabbed another one then hopped the dividing wall on the balcony and entered Wilson's office.

His lover was still sleeping, snoring ever so softly. House pulled up a chair and studied him for a minute. Wilson had his not so lanky form spread gracefully out on the couch; his hands over his chest and a pillow beneath his head. His forehead was creased and there were wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and mouth, all signs House didn't like seeing in Wilson while asleep or not smiling because it meant that he was in pain. House studied him for a moment longer than used his cane to poke Wilson's left shoulder.

Wilson woke with a start, something had poked him hard and last time he knew he was still in his office. He jumped immediately regretting it when he bent his knee and pain burned from his toes, igniting the pain in his ankle, up his calf, passed his thigh and ending in his hip. His knee had locked up during the night from being straight while he had been sleeping and hadn't liked being forced to bend.

He inhaled, hissing and held his breath while he clenched his teeth then let out his breath with a groan. His hand went down to massage his thigh to soothe the pain that could still be felt there though it wasn't the source.

When it finally registered in his pain filled mind that he had been poked, Wilson turned his head to his left and saw House sitting in one of his office chairs, beautiful blue eyes studying him in concern. "You couldn't think of a better way to wake me?" Wilson challenged not really mad at House but the pain in his leg.

House, who had been watching Wilson since he started awake, decided not to make a joke and just hand Wilson the cup of coffee he brought as a form of peace offering. "Coffee?" He suggested while he handed the cup to the younger man who had just sat up on his couch, wincing and clenching his teeth as he bent and straightened his leg.

Wilson looked up at him then grabbed the cup, leaving his leg stretched out in front of him. The warm caffeine did its job waking him up; he sat quietly while he slowly downed the cup then checked his watch. It was only 7:30! House saw him check his watch and tossed a duffel bag onto the couch beside him. He opened it, finding a change of clothes and toiletries. He looked up at House, surprise and gratefulness written all over his face. "Thanks." He said for lack of anything else better to say.

House nodded, "Figured you'd be stuck here all night and whiney if you didn't get a shower and look like a girl before you started meeting your bald-headed patients." He summarized trying to keep his normal sarcastic, snarky tone as he felt the gnawing, tightening of his gut that he thinks MAY be guilt ebb. "How long have you been here sleeping?" He asked the oncologist, noting the darkness under his eyes and the all-over exhaustion rolling off him.

"Uh, since 4am I think." Wilson replied rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"How's your patient?" House asked, though he didn't actually care.

"She died around 3am." Wilson responded sadly. "Her injuries were too severe and her body didn't have the energy to fight and heal."

"I'm sorry." House answered.

Wilson gave a sad smile. He knew House wasn't sorry about the patient but about how it was affecting his friend. "Thanks." He said while he stood up, grabbed the duffel bag and heavily limped towards his door. He stopped briefly where House was sitting, bent down and gave the diagnostician a kiss that meant: "Thank You." and "I Love You" at the same time; then he walked out the door, heading to the locker rooms and showers.

* * *

Wilson walked back into his office unsurprised to find House gone. His leg still ached but not so badly as it did when he woke so his limp was significantly less pronounced unfortunately he could feel a twinge in his back every time he twisted it or bent over; sleeping on the couch after standing up most of the night had been a BAD idea. He checked his calendar to make sure he had time to make a stop at diagnostics before his first appointment then left.

When he got back he found his first appointment of the day waiting for him. _And we're off!_ Wilson thought as he closed his office door.

* * *

Through the balcony door of his office, House kept as close an eye as he could on Wilson. He knew that his friend had yet another long day and he wanted to make sure that SOMEONE took care of him even if that someone had to be himself.

When noon rolled around he headed straight for the office, choosing the balcony door so he could see if Wilson was with a patient or alone. Not surprisingly, since House checked his schedule, Wilson was along but what was shocking was the oncologist was pacing limping circles in his office.

Since Wilson was alone, House had no problem barging into his office. "Let's get some lunch! You're buying!" He said in his usual way.

Wilson stopped pacing his office to look at House. "I have a better idea. Why don't you go buy your own lunch and bring me something?" He suggested in his usual Wilson way like it was the world's biggest puzzle.

"You can't make it down to the cafeteria?" House challenged. "And why are you pacing? It can't be good for you if you're limping while doing it." He pointed out annoyed by the nervous behavior of his friend.

"I don't have time to make it down there, stand in line for food, eat and come back before my next patient." Wilson answered sounding annoyed himself. "And I'm pacing because my knee stiffened up while I have been sitting down ALL morning and I needed to loosen it."

"What better way than to walk down to the cafeteria?" House challenged again. "Besides, I moved your afternoon appointment to later so you have time to enjoy a relaxing cafeteria lunch."

"You what? Why didn't she tell me?" Wilson asked staring at House looking bewildered.

"It's on your calendar, or it should be." House argued. "You need to make time for lunch today and I knew you wouldn't do it yourself so I did it for you. I'm not about to have you passing out and possibly injuring yourself because you refuse to eat and devote all your time to your patients." He walked up to the shocked oncologist and proceeded to pull off his white lab coat, resisting the urge to keep peeling clothes off him. "Now come on. We're wasting precious time arguing when we could be eating."

Wilson didn't really answer, just opened his door and waited for House to exit first before he followed; locking his office up behind him. They limped to the cafeteria, House for once having to slow his pace to match Wilson's.

They got their lunch and found a table to sit down at, House nudging the extra chair towards Wilson who ignored it. He did, however, take out a couple of Aleve and swallow them with his bottled water.

This bothered House. Wilson was a stickler for pain medicine and rarely took it. He supposed it had something to do with Wilson's brother and best friend becoming drug addicts but claimed that he never hurt badly enough to take anything unless it was a migraine. Even when he was injured, unless he was about to cry, Wilson wouldn't take the medicine at the correct time. So when Wilson electively downs 2 Aleve, House knows he's hurting and doesn't like it.

Halfway through their meal, Wilson gets a page and excuses himself before he limps out. House watched him go, more interested in Wilson's food than his own. He finished quickly and left, dropping their trash in the trash can as he went. He had a meeting with the boss.

* * *

Since he wanted something and didn't really have anything to bargain with House decided that barging in to Cuddy's office wouldn't work this time so he politely opened the door which happened to catch her attention faster than if he had stormed in.

"What do you want?" She asked skeptically.

"To take Wilson home and not return til tomorrow morning." He stated honestly deciding that being truthfully blunt would be best.

"Uh." Cuddy said shocked. "Why?"

"Because he was here all night and is running himself ragged today and I think it would be in his patient's best interest for him to go home." House answered.

"If Wilson wanted to go home, he could have left this morning-"

"No he couldn't have." House interrupted. "I had the car and told him that I wouldn't come and get him if he decided he wanted to come home. Besides he didn't finish this morning until 4am and his first appointment was at 830am, it wouldn't have been worth it to go home."

"AND" Cuddy said, continuing the rest of her sentence. "You both have clinic duty; we're short enough as it is today."

"I'll send the ducklings down." He said dismissively.

"No you won't. You have a patient that THEY need to deal with while YOU" she said pointing her finger at him, "the master multi-tasker can deal with your patient AND clinic patients. You and Wilson will just have to do your own clinic hours." She finished dismissively with a wave of her hand towards her door.

House stood there staring at her. He really didn't Wilson on his feet much more today but could he actually break his "I don't care about anyone" façade and bruise his pride to do it? He continued to stare at her before he turned around and walked out. He wasn't going to beg for something he wasn't even sure his friend wanted and besides, Wilson was a big boy and able to take care of himself.

* * *

Wilson walked in to the clinic at 3pm, half an hour late. The nurse scowled at him when he opened the door but changed it to a look of pity when she actually watched him approach the desk. He hated the look but knew it was warranted; his hair was messier than usual, his shoulders were slightly slumped, he was limping heavily and his jaw was clenched to keep any sound of discomfort in.

He took the first patient's file and called out their name, motioning for them to enter Exam Room #1 and then followed behind them. To his surprise the first thing out of the patient's mouth wasn't their symptoms it was, "Are you that mean doctor with a cane?" Wilson thought his mouth fell open but since his teeth were still firmly touching each other he pulled up the stool and sat down. "No." He assured them kindly.

"You were limping." The patient pointed out.

Wilson had to refrain from rolling his eyes and replying "Duh!". Some days he could understand why House treated these people like they were morons! "I'm fine." He dismissed while he read the patient's file. "You're just here for a check up then?" he asked bringing the conversation to her.

"Yeah, I came in a couple weeks ago for stitches and I was told to come back and have them removed." She answered.

Wilson noticed the bandage over her cheek bone and the stitching on the corner of her eye; that was going to be fun to get out! "Ok," he said cheerily, "why don't you go ahead and lay back and I'll get the scissors and get ready." He suggested motion for her to lie down on the exam bed.

She did as she was told while he put on his gloves and grabbed the finest pair of scissors he could find. He winced when he pivoted around, twisting his knee slightly but walked over to the bed to begin.

The stitches reached the VERY edge of skin by her left eye out to the eye socket bone and there was another set on her cheek bone. "How did this happen?" He asked casually while he began to cut and pull the thread out.

"Got bitten by a dog." She replied easily, clearly it didn't bother her that a dog bit her and she almost lost her eye. "The doctor who gave me the stitches actually had to re-sew the ones on my cheek because he got a few of my eyelashes stuck in them."

Wilson laughed despite himself; she really did have LONG eyelashes, they really were quite beautiful and thick. Just as he was finishing the last set a nurse knocked on the door and poked her head in. "Dr. Wilson you have a patient specifically requesting you in room 3." She informed him.

"Ok, let them know I will be there in about 5-10 minutes." He responded as he made sure all of the thread was gone. He turned his attention back to the patient. "Ok, you're finished." He told her as he helped her to sit up.

"Thanks." She said as she eased herself off the bed and left.

Wilson followed her out, limping heavier than when he went in, and dropped her file off at the nurse's desk; writing his notes in it. He brought a hand up to the back of his neck, gave it a small massage knowing it wouldn't really help the headache that he had, and grabbed the file for the patient in room 3.

"Are you feeling alright?" The nurse asked him before he walked away, biting her lip afterwards. "You seem tired."

Clearly she didn't think he only looked tired. "I'm fine," He reassured her. "just looking forward to this day being over."

She nodded and let him leave. He walked into exam room 3 and stopped dead in his tracks, his back against the wood door.

"Hello Dr. Wilson." The patient sneered, his cold voice chilling Wilson to the bone.

Wilson's mouth fell open as he stared at Dr. Daniel Cavanaugh.

* * *

**_AN: Duh duh duh! LOL J/K Anyways. The first clinic patient's injuries were actually mine. 15yrs ago I was bitten by a dog and it happened exactly like in the story. The dog almost bit my eye and the doctor had to try to "flick" out the eyelashes he had gotten stuck in the stitches. LOL _**

**_Hope you like this chapter!  
_**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

Cuddy sat in the entryway between her office and the clinic, carefully watching Wilson. While she wasn't ready to give him the rest of the day off just because House thinks she should it doesn't mean that she doesn't accept the fact that House tried. She could tell he was concerned about the oncologist even though he didn't want to show it and anything that had House concerned had her interest piqued.

She ignored the curious look from her assistant and kept her eyes focused on her target. She frowned when he walked into the clinic half an hour late, though not out of annoyance that he was late but concern. Wilson, unless with House, was NEVER late; he hated it and was a stickler for time. The general appearance of exhaustion coming off him threatened to knock her over with its force, then there was the fact that he seemed to have his jaw wired shut and was limping quite badly; obviously he was in pain and trying not to show it but unable to put much weight on his leg.

She walked back into her office, having seen enough, and opened her cell phone to send House a txt. _"What's wrong with Wilson?" _it said.

"_Why?"_ Was the only reply she got though she could hear the concern coming through loud and clear.

"_He's limping."_

"_. in rt. Knee & ankle. Pnt. abt 2 die, gtg."_ He answered.

She had to read his answer twice; there was no way Wilson was old enough to have Osteoarthritis in his knee and ankle. Cuddy wanted to go out and find House to make him explain but the sight of Wilson limping, if possible, heavier into yet another clinic patient's room detoured her.

She walked up to the nurse at the help desk in the clinic. "Can you find someone else to cover the clinic? I need Dr. Wilson a minute."

"Even if I could, the patient he is with specifically requested him." The nurse answered apologetically.

Cuddy frowned, not happy with this information. "Do you have a copy of the patient's admission form?" She asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Call it a mother's intuition but something didn't feel right.

"Yeah." The nurse replied, looking at her confused before she pulled up the form on the computer. "Daniel Cavanaugh."

If she had been drinking something right then, Cuddy was pretty sure she would have spit it all over the nurse. "Dr. Daniel Cavanaugh?" She asked, her voice becoming edgy.

"Uh," the nurse stuttered, "he didn't say he was a doctor." She answered.

Cuddy made her way to the computer, the nurse politely and quickly getting out of the way, and pulled up Cavanaugh's employee picture. "Is this him?" She asked fiercely pointing at the monitor.

"Yeah, I didn't realize he used to be an employee here." She defended praying her boss wasn't angry at her. "I don't think I've ever seen him down here for clinic duty."

"What room is he in?" Cuddy asked ignoring her defense.

"3." Cuddy stormed off, popping open her cell to send House a quick txt: _Cavanaugh here with Wilson in Clinic. Come Now!_ She knew that he would be furious with her if she didn't let him know right away and even more furious if something happened to Wilson again; both of which she did not need or want.

She burst into exam room 3, almost hitting Wilson with the door who was leaning against the glass wall with his arms across his chest. To her amazement he looked furious at the former doctor; his stance suggesting a silent challenge to Cavanaugh: _Come near me, I dare you._ Though she knew he was hurting, she didn't think it was wise for the other man to attempt it.

Cavanaugh smiled at her. "Hello Dr. Cuddy." He said, emphasizing her name. He turned to Wilson, "Happy? I used her proper title."

"Get out." Cuddy growled.

"I am in need of an oncologist and I hear the best one in the country works here." He replied innocently though his tone was mocking.

"You're an oncologist, heal yourself." She snarked. When had she turned into House?

"Yeah but he was a crappy doctor." Wilson reminded her with a look in his eyes that she never wanted to see again.

That sparked anger in Cavanaugh, "You have no right to comment about how good of a doctor I am given the things you do!" He yelled before he could stop himself.

Wilson stood up, still favoring his right leg but managing to make himself look taller than he was. "If you don't approve of how I live my life," he growled, inching closer to Cavanaugh until he was in the other man's face, "then maybe you should get out." He said while pointing to the door.

Before Cuddy had a chance to separate the two, Cavanaugh's fist flew connecting with Wilson's cheek and sending him stumbling backwards and slamming against the glass wall. Wilson cried out when his leg gave out, twisting his ankle beneath him. Still he stood up, using the hand that Cuddy had offered for leverage and the wall for support; putting no weight on his leg. He gave Cavanaugh a smile that normally was meant for a joke between he and House.

Cuddy thought he was crazy. Where had the Wilson SHE knew gone? "That's it!" She yelled as she walked out to get security, almost running over House.

House barged in and charged Cavanaugh, his face showing pure confusion when Wilson grabbed his arm and hauled him away with more strength then Cuddy realized he had. "No." Wilson growled to his lover. He looked at Cuddy, "No security either. I pushed him." He said before he turned his attention to Cavanaugh. "What makes you think you have cancer?" He asked, still leaning awkwardly on the glass wall.

"I don't give a damn why he thinks he has cancer. He assaulted one my doctors twice; the second time when he wasn't supposed to be on hospital grounds. He's not allowed to stay." Cuddy exclaimed.

As part of her exclamation registered in his rage filled mind, House whirled on Wilson noticing for the first time the purpling bruise on the left cheek of Wilson's face and the way he wasn't putting any weight on his leg. He used his cane to hook the stool and drag it over, forcing Wilson to sit in it.

While Cuddy had raged and House had doted, Cavanaugh had handed Wilson a copy of a biopsy test. He studied it for a few minutes, leaving Cuddy's mouth hanging open and feeling House's trembling hand on his shoulder. Yep, the former doctor had cancer alright, at least, according to this paper.

He studied Cavanaugh for a moment then said, "Fine. I'll admit you and then perform another biopsy and test the tumor myself. I know money won't be a problem for daddy." He quipped, wondering who in the hell was controlling him right now.

A "You are not admitting him!" & "You are not treating him!" both rang out at the same time, the first from Cuddy and the second from House.

"Dr. Wilson, can I talk to you in my office please?" Cuddy asked coldly and professionally. She had noticed Cavanaugh's sneer at their protestations and didn't want to give him any more satisfaction. "Better yet, security can you take this man and detain him?" She asked after giving Wilson a good look; he didn't look like he could move right now.

The two burly men who represented security nodded before grabbing Cavanaugh and hauling him out of the room. Cuddy whirled on Wilson the minute she had closed the door. "What the hell are you thinking? You can't treat him even if he does have cancer AND want you to. He may not be a family member or a friend but you DO know him and there's no guarantee that you'll be able to stay neutral."

Wilson figuratively deflated; his posture went from rigid and angry to spent and pain. "I honestly don't want to treat him but if he does have cancer and he wants me to treat him, then shouldn't I given that my specialty is oncology?" He countered, scrubbing his hands over his face and wincing when they found the bruise on his cheek. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to be causing him more pain or harm on purpose nor am I likely to donate ANYTHING for him." He added, remembering Tucker.

"Then he can go to another doctor. There are plenty of good oncologists in the state, hell in the country. Let him go to one of them, he can afford it!" She argued, pulling up the extra chair that they kept in the exam rooms, offering it to House who rejected it and then sat down. "You do not have to be the one to treat him." She added more gently, hoping to coax Wilson into agreeing with her.

"And how would it look if he went to another oncology department complaining because the department at Princeton-Plainsboro wouldn't treat him?" He countered. "How would it look for the hospital? And if he decided to report it to the press? Just because HE knows the reason doesn't mean that they will or care and by the time they do the damage will already be done."

Cuddy winced at his words. She hated that Wilson knew this side of her and knew how to use it when he was being stubborn.

"You aren't seriously thinking about this?" House exclaimed seeing that she was starting to fold. "He can't treat that man."

"House, this isn't up to you." Wilson told him firmly, giving the hand on his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

House felt his blood turn cold at his words and tone. He wanted to argue but logically he also knew that Wilson was right. "Ok." He said, giving a nod and then walking out, slamming the door behind him.

If possible, Wilson deflated more. He couldn't believe he had just said that. While it was true, he knew that House was only there because of him.

Cuddy kept her focus on him for a few silent minutes, studying him. "Are you sure about this?" She asked, desperation to stop him in her voice.

Wilson stayed quiet for awhile, knowing that once he answered this question, he'd have to stick with it. He felt something akin to pleasure at seeing the man rot from cancer creep up into his heart and felt sickened but somehow his brain was listening to that feeling and answered, "Yes."

Cuddy must have seen the feeling in his eyes because she looked taken aback at his answer but still, she stayed quiet. "Alright." She conceded before she changed the subject. "Now what's wrong with your leg? You've been favoring it severely since you came to the clinic."

Wilson blushed at her noticing but answered truthfully. "I have arthritis in my knee and ankle; House found it a few weeks ago. I've been very busy the passed couple of days and they're letting me know how unhappy they are about it." He joked, grimacing as pain shot through his ankle.

"Ok," She began, still a little shocked that he could have it so early. "Did you injure your leg when you fell?" At his questioned head tilt she added, "You haven't put any weight on it since you got up."

"I'll be fine." He said, not really wanting to discuss any of his own pains with her.

"Is that why you haven't moved from that spot since House put you there?" She countered.

He felt the red in his cheeks deepen, "I twisted my ankle; it's nothing." He answered doubting that he would be able to walk on his own but not wanting to admit it. Without warning she lifted his leg, placing his calf on her lap. He hissed at the action, his knee hadn't liked it and let him know by sending pain vibrating through his leg.

"Sorry." She apologized while she rolled up the pant leg and took off his sock and shoe. Cuddy had to hold in the wince in sympathy, knowing it wouldn't be appreciated, at the sight of his purpling and swollen ankle and foot. She could already tell that he was going to need an MRI so she got up, placing his leg on the seat she had just vacated. "I'm going to get someone to help you get to MRI and X-Ray." She told him before she left.

Wilson was about to tell her there was no need but she left before he could argue. He really didn't want to waste time getting tests done; he had some paperwork in his office needing done, plus admitting Cavanaugh and scheduling a biopsy and then finding House to apologize and explain. He brought his left hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. GOD he was tired!

Cuddy walked back in with a nurse he actually didn't know and a wheelchair. "It's this or you make camp here." She told him at his disgusted look.

He reached up and, using the exam bed as leverage, stood precariously on one leg. He attempted to put weight on his right but was met with nothing but pain and therefore kept it drawn up. The nurse pushed the wheelchair in and he lowered himself into it.

"Don't worry about Cavanaugh," Cuddy told him as the nurse pushed him out of the room, "I'll have him admitted and order the biopsy. Let me know what your tests say." She finished as she walked into her office.

Wilson leaned his head back over the edge of the wheelchair and closed his eyes. If he was going to be forced to get tested and pushed there, he was going to catch some rest while he did it.

* * *

House was sitting behind his desk, bouncing his Lacrosse ball off the wall when Wilson entered sporting crutches and a bandaged right ankle. As much as he wanted to, Wilson didn't sit down in the recliner; instead he crutched up to House's desk and stood there, not knowing if he was welcome enough to sit down or not.

"Heard Cuddy caved." The diagnostician said, not taking his eyes of his task.

"Yeah." Wilson replied tiredly.

"Are you going to sit down or continue to stand there looking pathetic?" House asked still bouncing his ball.

Wilson maneuvered himself into one of the chairs across from House's desk, breathing a sigh of relief at sitting down. "Do you know why I wanted to treat him?"

"Don't care." House answered shortly.

Wilson ignored the icy shortness and answered his own question. "It's because I felt some small sense of satisfaction at being able to watch him go bald, be in constant pain and shrivel into nothing. I thought "If I'm lucky, I'll get to watch the bastard die."" He confessed, more than a little ashamed that it was the truth.

At Wilson's words, House stopped bouncing his ball. Of all the reasons he expected to hear tonight, that wasn't it. He knew Wilson would come looking for him and, even if he didn't want to hear, explain. He turned to face Wilson, holding in the frown at the pain, shame and exhaustion that rippled off the man like small waves. "Way to go." House smirked, meaning it 100%. Wilson looked up at House with so many emotions running through his eyes that House didn't know which to focus on. "He really made you angry." He observed. "And now you're acting on that anger while fooling Cuddy and yourself into believing that you'll be able to remain impartial. Good for you." He paused, "What'd he do that made you so angry?" He asked curiously.

Wilson blushed at House's rationalization of what he had just said and then blushed deeper at his last question. "He insulted you and then insulted you and me." He answered feeling the anger rise from the depth of his soul again.

House watched, noticing the fire of anger rise in Wilson, melting the chocolate in his brown irises to honey. He decided not to answer and just nod his understanding. While it was annoying to be insulted by Cavanaugh, he didn't really find that it was worth it to be THAT mad. Although, if someone had insulted Wilson he would have pounced on them, nobody insults the man before him with the exception of House himself. "You look like crap." He observed.

Wilson let out a chuckle, "Feel like it too." He responded quietly, relaxing back into the uncomfortable chair.

"Let's get you home." House suggested, slowly standing up.

"What about your patient?" The younger man asked.

"Solved it." House dismissed while he began packing his backpack. "It was Lupus, can you believe it?"

Wilson gave another soft, tired chuckle before he began to move his weary body out of the chair and head to his office; House following. Home sounds good.

* * *

**_AN: I won't update this story for the next couple of days but hope to be able to by Friday at the latest. Got some RL stuff to attend to. ;)_**

**_I hope you all still like it so far. Poor Wilson, I can't seem to leave the poor guy alone can I?  
_**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

Cuddy knocked on the door to Wilson's office, holding tightly on to the paper in her hand. She patiently waited until she heard the soft "Come In" then entered, quietly closing the door behind her.

Wilson sat behind his desk, left hand mid-scrawl as he looked up. His right ankle lay elevated on a pillowed stool with a thick, black sock over his foot, meeting his black work slacks. "Hey, what's up?" He asked absentmindedly while he went back to writing in the patient file.

"How are you?" She asked, confusing herself; she had meant to say something else entirely.

"Fine." He replied quickly, putting his pen down and looking up at her. The bruise on his cheek, deep purple and painful looking.

She nodded knowing he was shutting her out like normal. "How's your ankle?"

"It's fine." He answered, shrugging. "Phelps said it was a grade II, to stay off it for a couple of weeks and to make sure I keep it elevated and iced, supplementing heat after the first 48 hours. Nothing I didn't know already." He explained clinically, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. "What's that?" He asked motioning towards the paper she had clenched in her fist.

"I got the lab results back from Cavanaugh's biopsy." She explained noting the curiosity that flared in his eyes. "They found cancerous cells but no tumor." She summed while she handed him the printout.

Wilson took it eagerly, which surprised her. She hoped he wasn't eager for the wrong reason and she got her reassurance when he quickly looked up and said, "I want to schedule an MRI, CT Scan, X-Rays and Bone scan."

Cuddy was about to object to the amount of radiation he was putting the patient through when an idea occurred to her. "You think he has an Osteosarcoma?" She asked incredulously though why it's such a ridiculous idea, she had no idea. "In his spine?"

"Yes." Was all he supplied, quickly picking up the phone to inform Brown of the results and share his ideas. Apparently Brown had agreed because the conversation was short and without disagreement or persuasion. "It's possible that we've caught it early enough that we can still save his life since he's surprisingly not in a lot of pain but Osteosarcoma's can be tricky and since this one's in the spine, I'm not 100% sure."

Cuddy listened to him ramble. Who knew Wilson could talk that fast? "I have another lab result here." She said when something he mentioned clicked. "Results from a drug test." She pulled the second lab sheet out of the inside pocket of her suit jacket.

"Why did you have it in there?" He asked curiously while he took the paper from her. She didn't answer deciding to just let him read the results. Wilson sighed resignedly, placing the paper down on top of his desk and his right hand on top of it. "Morphine," He said, "he was high on morphine when he came in. He's known he's had this for awhile." He let out a sigh, bringing his right hand up to the back of his neck and rubbing it while he left held the paper down, like it would run away if he let go.

"I had a feeling that he was on something so I authorized the drug testing before I left." Cuddy told him apologetically. She didn't understand why she was so apologetic about it since Cavanaugh had attacked Wilson, injuring him AND he was her patient until cancer was determined.

Wilson inhaled deeply while he pushed himself off his chair. "No, it's good. Thanks." He said, grabbing his crutches which were propped up against the wall behind his desk. "I'm going to go talk to him."

"Didn't you just schedule him for 4 tests all of which will have Brown with him, who is basically your second in command? Why not call and have him talk to Cavanaugh?" Cuddy suggested hoping that reminding Wilson of the tests will derail his efforts for a bit longer.

He looked up at her, suspicion coloring his warm chocolate eyes dark. Apparently he was on to her. "Dr. Cuddy, are you trying to keep me away from my patient?" He asked. His question implied that he was being formal but his tone suggested a playfulness that he had learned after almost 20 years of being friends with House.

"No, I'm not keeping you away from your patient." She answered giving a small smile. "Figuratively." Wilson's eyes sparkled with humor at her latest addition. "I do think that you should stay away from him physically however. The last couple of times you and he have been in the same room, you have been injured and I'd like to avoid that in the future."

"She's got a point." A familiar gruff voice intoned, scaring both of them. Cuddy jumped back, almost falling over the couch and Wilson dropped his crutches and almost fell onto the floor from lack of balance.

"House!" They both yelled at the same time. "Next time cough or clear your throat. I seem to remember telling you this countless of times!" Wilson complained as he awkwardly bent over to pick up his crutches.

"Yep, and I seem to remember telling you that it isn't as fun." House quipped as he sat down, not bothering to help his friend.

"How many times have you done that?" Cuddy asked scrutinizing him.

"I've lost count. He's just such an easy target!" House answered while he gestured to Wilson. His tone suggesting he was talking about a cute, fluffy bunny rather than constantly scaring his best friend.

"Well I'd appreciate it if you gave him warning next time. I don't need my Head of Oncology having a heart attack because you like to play games." She lectured like Wilson wasn't even in the room to argue.

"He's not going to have a heart attack. He's not old enough." House answered, studying Wilson. "Though he is getting pudgy isn't he?"

An indignant "Hey!" came across the desk. Cuddy gave him a sympathetic, "you aren't pudgy" look while House just laughed. "Did you come here for a reason or just to scare the crap out of us?" Wilson asked him, his voice growing gravelly with annoyance.

"Wanted to know what you two girls were talking about and thought I'd join the slumber party." House explained. "I've figured out that it's Cavanaugh," he spat out the name like it was a curse, disgust and anger on his face, "but what about him?"

"He has cancer." Wilson deadpanned without missing a beat.

"Duh." House replied sarcastically. "Anything interesting? I need some gossip to get Masters off my back. It's a slow day."

"House!" Cuddy exclaimed. "You know very well that patient's circumstances are confidential and NOT for gossip!" She stood to the left side of Wilson's desk, arms crossed across her chest. Her grey eyes growing colder.

"Please, do you honestly think Wilson doesn't tell me details of his patients? I wish I could get him to stop!" He answered dramatically, sneering.

"I don't- I never- I" Wilson stuttered as Cuddy's fierce glare turned on him. "I do not tell you details of my patients, even if you would listen to them!" He declared strongly, pointing a finger at House.

House let a sincere smile play on his lips at Cuddy's protectiveness and Wilson's naïveté. It was just too easy to mess with them!

"Jerk." Wilson snarked, picking up the phone to call Brown back and rubbing his right thigh. His ankle had been throbbing more and more since Cuddy's arrival and House's "fun" had caused him to lose his balance and temporarily place weight on it to keep himself upright. The throbbing had gone from dull and annoying to warm pain, spreading throughout his leg.

House's sharp eyes focused on Wilson, noticing the leg rub. He studied his friend longer, finding the signs of pain that he hadn't noticed before. At least that explained his lack of humor today. He kept his face stone straight and unreadable, unwilling to let the arrow of gnawing guilt that struck his stomach to show.

Cuddy and House stayed silent while Wilson was on the phone, sharing the rest of his findings and conclusions with Brown while Cavanaugh had been getting X-Rays. Neither of them liked that Wilson was treating Cavanaugh but they both knew that they couldn't stop him.

When Wilson hung up, Cuddy finished their earlier discussion. "At least for now, I would like you remain 50ft away from Daniel Cavanaugh." She intoned with the voice of a judge. "You are relatively" she threw a glance at his bandaged ankle under the desk, "healthy right now and I'd like to keep you that way. The only way to do that is to keep you away from him. You can still be his doctor and yet never have had to share personal space with him." She reasoned.

"No, I can't." Wilson argued. "Much of what I do involves being around the patient, learning the ticks and quirks and discovering when something is off via those ticks and quirks. There's a lot more to treating a cancer patient than the medicine and clinical knowledge."

Cuddy listened, knowing he was right but unwilling to waver in her stance. "That may be." She received a glare for that answer. "Alright, I know that's true. I remember when you found another form of cancer on a patient because they hadn't bragged about their grandkids but Cavanaugh isn't your normal patient and after working with him for over a year, I would think that you've learned those ticks and quirks already."

"You know as much as I do that I never spent a lot of time with Cavanaugh and neither did anyone else at this hospital and even if we did there's very little chance that we even got to see the real him." Wilson reasoned, shuddering slightly at his own meaning. "Besides, how would I even know if something's off if all I do is get reports from other doctors and pieces of paper?"

Cuddy stood there quietly, not knowing how to respond. She knew that he was right but her brain still argued against letting him meet Cavanaugh in person ever again and she also knew House would probably never get any work done OR visit the clinic if Wilson met with this particular patient.

Wilson sat studying her for a moment. "Is the real reason why you don't want me meeting with Cavanaugh that you really don't want him to get treated?" He asked.

Cuddy's face morphed from one of resolution and resistance to shock. "No, that is not it at all!" She responded defensively, wondering how he could even think that.

"I sure as hell don't." House answered the question that wasn't aimed at him. He knew that Wilson felt the same as he did and didn't want him saying it to Cuddy or having to explain why his mind jumped to that assumption.

"Well then it's a good thing you aren't his doctor." Cuddy answered, her voice practically a hiss and growl in one.

"Just wanted to put my opinion in there." House replied casually with a wave of his hand.

"Don't you have a patient?" She asked annoyed.

"Nope. There's no interesting cases." He answered with a smirk.

"Clinic duty?"

"Sent Chase and Taub."

"Back-logged paperwork. I know you have that!" She countered wanting desperately to get rid of him.

"Nope, got Foreman doing it." His smirk grew wider. "Besides, Jimmy and I have a lunch date." He said, giving his partner the silent _hint hint _head nod.

"You do?" Cuddy asked, turning around to face Wilson and checking her watch.

"Yeah. You know House, can't buy his own lunch to save his life." Wilson quipped.

Cuddy stood, appraising him. "Fine. You look a bit thin anyways." Wilson smiled at that and gave a _HA_ look to House. "Stay away from the patient." She ordered as she was walking out the door.

"Oh there's a command!" House snarked loudly as her 4in heel disappeared from sight. "So, lunch?" He cheerily suggested just as loudly.

Wilson checked his schedule and then his watch. "Yeah, you're buying."

"But-" House stuttered.

"It was your suggestion and your idea for getting rid of Cuddy." Wilson argued.

"But you said that you were buying it."

"No, I didn't. I just said that you can't buy your own to save your life which is the truth. Leaving one to THINK I was buying. I never actually said I would." Wilson smiled widely, knowing he had House.

"Cheeky bastard." House replied, returning the warm smile. "Come on, let's go then gimpy." He stiffly stood up, rubbing his thigh as he did so, and waited for Wilson to gather his crutches (and his wallet) before he led the younger man to the door. "Can you walk a few feet away? You cramp my style."

"What style?" Wilson scoffed.

"We both know that I make being crippled look good." House replied, going for a Will Smith tone and failing miserably.

"Yeah, that must be why I have over half the nursing staff constantly fawning over me and you have, well me. And I'm not crippled, I'm injured." Wilson corrected.

"My point exactly!" House answered, ignoring Wilson's correction of terms. "I have the Head of Oncology fawning after me while you just have nurses. I mean, who really wants a bunch of Bambi-lovers following you around anyways? It's so not cool."

"Bambi-lovers? Really?" Wilson asked trying to hide his smile as a nurse walked passed. "I thought I looked like a puppy dog to you."

"Eh, my mind went blank." House replied with a shrug as they walked into the cafeteria.

They grabbed their food, Wilson bought of course, and charmed one of Wilson's "Bambi-followers" into carrying their trays for them as they headed towards an open table.

"Thanks Flower!" House said cheerily.

"My name is Brandi." The nurse replied annoyed.

"Uh, never mind." Wilson cut in. "Thanks Brandi." He said, giving her his winning Boy Wonder smile. She smiled in return and left, throwing House a glare before doing so. "She hates you."

"Don't care." House answered as his hand snaked across the table, stealing one of Wilson's fries.

"Do you know that some people actually think you gave me the bruise?" Wilson asked laughing while he lightly touched the area on his cheek.

House almost spit Grape Soda all over Wilson. "What?" He asked, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah, they think that you hit me and that's why there's a bruise on my cheek." Wilson answered, chuckling before he took a bite of his cheeseburger.

"Wait, so does that mean I can beat you and no one would mind?" House asked, faking excitement.

Wilson glared at him. "No. The only reason they aren't saying anything to you is well, it's you and I've convinced them that it happened when I fell down the stairs."

"'Fell down the stairs' that's really the story you're going with?" House asked incredulous. "Have I not rubbed off on you at all?"

Wilson laughed while a familiar glint warmed his eyes. "Guess not."

Before they could say anything else, Wilson's pager beeped. His hand automatically took it out of the holster, the action formed of 15years of being on-call, and held it up to his face to read.

House frowned when he frowned. "What is it?"

"Cavanaugh won't let us touch him unless he speaks to me." Wilson replied with an angry sigh.

"Let's go." House said as he grabbed a couple more fries and shoved them into his mouth before grabbing their empty plates and dumping them in the trash behind him.

Wilson really didn't want House coming but he couldn't think of a good reason for keeping the older man away. He stood up and heavily limped over to where his crutches lay and began walking towards the door where House stood waiting.

"Thought you were supposed to stay off your ankle." House snarked with a smirk. They had been betting on how long Wilson could follow Phelp's orders and House had just won.

"Oh shut up." Wilson grumbled as he walked passed his friend and headed towards Cavanaugh's room.

* * *

**_AN: Yay! I was able to get this chapter up before Friday! I hope it was worth the wait and that they characters were IC. I thought I did a good job but I could be wrong. :o) _**


	20. Chapter 20

**_AN: And now for Chapter 20. Hope you enjoy it!_**

**_I think this story is slowly drawing to a close. I don't expect there should be too many more chapters coming; maybe 4-5 more.

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**Chapter 20:**

They walked into Cavanaugh's room, both radiating anger, and stood by the foot of the bed near the door. Neither one wanted to get close to the man for fear of acting on their impulse to strangle the man or put an air bubble into his IV.

Cavanaugh looked up from the bed, sneering at the two men. "Ah, Dr. House so good to see you again and with your loyal puppy dog, Dr. Wilson in tow."

"He is rather cute isn't he?" House quipped as he ran his hand through Wilson's hair. "It's too bad that you can't have him since he's mine."

"Please, I don't want your sloppy seconds." The man in the bed scoffed. "It'd be demeaning for me to have to touch him after you've had your hands all over him. He's tainted, disgusting." He sneered, his face showing a deep disgust.

"Hm." House said thoughtfully before he gently pulled Wilson in for a deep, soulful kiss, being careful not to knock the unsteady oncologist off balance. "He doesn't taste disgusting." The diagnostician answered earning a disgusted sneer from the man in the bed.

"What did you want to talk to me about Daniel?" Wilson interjected deciding to derail that specific line of conversation.

"Hm?" The former doctor feigned confusion. "Oh, I wanted to let you know that I do not want any treatment."

"If you don't want treatment then why did you bother coming here?" Wilson asked angrily to keep his mouth from falling open.

"Because I wanted you to have to watch me die and know there's nothing you can do to stop it." Cavanaugh answered with a satisfied glint in his eyes.

Wilson actually found that he had to sit down after that statement. He was shocked enough to almost drop the crutches which were currently the ONLY thing keeping him standing. The way Cavanaugh's twisted mind worked stumped him, especially with the man being a former doctor. He must know that Wilson doesn't have to literally stay there and watch him die, though doing it from his office isn't much different.

Silently Wilson heavily limped up to Cavanaugh's patient file and lifted it from its spot. He limped back to his seat, ignoring the annoyed glare from his partner, and pulled out the pen from the pocket of his shirt then flipped open the chart. He made sure he kept his writing legible and clear so that there would be NO debate about what Cavanaugh's (and therefore his) instructions were. He made a little note beneath stating that Dr. Gregory House had been in the room as well and had heard should anyone still want to challenge him.

He limped back to the bed, put the chart down and went back to where House stood holding his crutches out for him to grab. He gave his friend a grateful smile and took the instruments, then crutched his way out of the room and to the elevator.

House and Wilson walked in silence toward their offices. House understood that his friend was still processing what the sadist had said and therefore he didn't need to say anything right now. He silently followed Wilson to his office and closed the door behind him, keeping a hawk's eye close watch on the oncologist. He snorted when Wilson sat down and pulled one file off the stack of many and began to write.

House kicked the vacated pillowed stool to the right of Wilson's desk, not only to get the other man's attention but to hopefully hint that he should use it. Wilson looked up from the file, blinking blankly at House before he turned his head to look at the stool. He stared distantly at it, trying to get his brain to make the connection. It did by the way of warm, throbbing pain spreading from his toes to his calf, reminding him of his injured ankle.

Wilson rolled his chair back so he could lift his right leg and gingerly place the injured joint on the pillow, his hand automatically going to rub his thigh in an attempt to ease the pain.

House made sure Wilson had elevated his ankle and then skipped out the balcony door wordlessly, returning less than 3minutes later with an ice pack, shocking Wilson with his speediness. How a man with a bum leg and half his thigh muscle missing could move that fast he'd never understand.

The diagnostician poked his head and half his upper body into the office and tossed Wilson the ice pack then disappeared again. Wilson smiled to himself at the subtle hint and placed the ice pack on top of his throbbing ankle then turned his attention back to his "Catch-Up Day".

* * *

The end of the day found Wilson swallowing two Aleve, an entire glass of water and applying another ice pack. His in-hospital patients had heard that he was back and all of them, with the exception of Cavanaugh, had requested to see him. He happily acquiesced but it led to him being on his feet for the last hour and a half and his ankle had begun to throb angrily again.

A knock at his door brought his attention from the email he was responding to, to the slim figure in the doorway, dark brown hair falling softly over her shoulders and blue-grey eyes studying him.

"I heard Cavanaugh refused treatment." Cuddy said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Wilson replied, quickly finished his email and sending it so he could give her his full attention. He scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly, "he says he wants me to have to watch him die. Is it too late to get a psych consult?" He only half joked.

"Do you think he needs one?" She asked sitting down in one of the chairs across from his desk.

Wilson shrugged, "At first it was just a joke but he more I think about it, yeah." He answered putting more and more thought into it. "His behavior suggests that he isn't thinking clearly and may not be able to make his own medical decisions."

Cuddy sat leaning against the back of the chair, studying him to make sure he was being objective. The more thought she gave it the less she could deny that Cavanaugh did seem to need a consult and it may be possible that Wilson's right. "Alright, go ahead and schedule it." She told him, patiently waiting as he did so. "What are your plans for this weekend?" She asked once he hung up.

"Uh, I don't think we have any why?" Wilson replied, a little surprised by the question. He stole a quick glance at the still present mound of paperwork and decided he'd be working at home tonight. He began to pack the files into his briefcase while Cuddy answered.

"Lucas and I wanted to know if you and House wanted to come over for a barbeque." She said friendly. "The weather's been getting nicer and while it's not nice enough to be outside for awhile it is nice enough to grill."

"Sounds fun." Wilson answered as he stood up and limped over to switch out coats. "Let me run it by House and I'll let you know tomorrow." He promised.

"Run what by House?" The man in question asked from the balcony. The two in the office managed to keep their reaction dampened this time, not completely surprised by House's presence.

"A barbeque dinner at my house this weekend." Cuddy answered, brushing the bangs out of her eyes.

"Free food, free beer, sounds fun." House summarized watching Wilson closely. "Providing this idiot doesn't get himself in trouble by not using his crutches." He added when he noticed Wilson limping around the room.

"In trouble with whom?" Wilson countered with his hands on his hips as he leaned his right hip against his desk.

"Me." The diagnostician answered as he limped more into the office. "Phelps told you to stay off that ankle for a reason idiot and if I have to I will ground you."

"Since when did you become my mother?" Wilson squeaked.

"Since you can't seem to take care of yourself." House answered, dead serious.

Cuddy stood off to the side, watching with amusement as her Head of Diagnostics and Head of Oncology sounded off. When House had threatened to ground Wilson she had let out a small chuckle that had gone unnoticed by the two men but she decided to step in when she noticed that House was becoming slowly more agitated by Wilson's lack of concern for his own well being. "Alright, that's enough." She said reminding herself of a referee as she stepped into the space between the two. "Wilson," she said as she turned towards the oncologist, "if Dr. Phelps has said to stay off your ankle, that's what you need to do." She lectured.

"It was just a precaution." Wilson dismissed with placating hands.

"Precaution or not," Cuddy interrupted, cutting off his dismissal, "you need to listen to him. How would you feel if your patients didn't take your advice?"

"This is not the same thing." Wilson replied incredulously. "And since when are you siding with House?"

"Since his concern for your lack of concern about your own health is a valid point." She answered unflinchingly.

Wilson sat down, finding that his left leg was getting tired of supporting him with only a little help from his desk. "How on Earth is House grounding me over a stupid thing like not using crutches evolving into his concern about my "lack of concern"?" He asked using actual finger quotes at the end.

"You really are an idiot aren't you?" Cuddy chuckled adoringly at the man she considered her younger brother.

"Yep." House answered for her. He had been a silent observer while Wilson had argued with Cuddy, hoping she could talk some sense into the stubborn oncologist.

"Hey!" Wilson cried indignantly at both of them. "Look, I do care about my own health I just don't equate limping around my relatively small office to put on my coat to risking it." He defended with an annoyed wave around his office. Cuddy and House both rolled their eyes and scoffed laughingly but kept quiet. "I don't!" He squeaked like a mouse. "Look," he said focusing on House, "let's just go home."

The smile that had crept onto House's face disappeared slightly at the plea. Wilson had managed to make the plea sound like an angry demand but House could see the desperation in his brown eyes and House recognized it for what it was; his friend was hurting, exhausted and just needed to get home and off his feet. "Lead the way 00-Gimp." House quipped, his eyes showing he understood what Wilson had meant.

"He does kind of look like a gimpy Bond doesn't he?" Cuddy joked as she took a step back to examine Wilson.

"Wilson, James Wilson." The oncologist answered trying to sound like James Bond and ending up sounding like an American Agent trying to pull off an English accent.

"Better stick with your day job." Cuddy told him smiling, chuckling lightly. "Anyways, I'll let you two go. I need to get home to Rachel and Lucas anyways."

"Good night Cuddy." Wilson told her, glad that as a group they'd managed to raise his spirits a little.

"Goodnight Wilson. Bye House." She returned before she shut the door behind her.

"Ready?" Wilson asked sounding more tired than he did a minute ago.

"Nope, just standing around because it feels good." House snarked.

Wilson just rolled his eyes and led the way to his door, waiting for House to exit before he locked it. He heard a shouted "Come on Gimpy!" behind him and turned around to see House holding the elevator waiting for him to enter it.

When he entered the elevator and found it empty, Wilson allowed himself to collapse against the back, leaning heavily against it. He leaned his head against his friend's shoulder, allowing his eyes to close for the few seconds it took to get to the main level.

"Come on." House's gruff voice whispered. "Let's get you home and in bed."

"MM, bed." Wilson whispered wistfully as he followed House out of the hospital.


	21. Chapter 21

**_AN: This chapter is rated M+ for slash-sex. Just a warning. Sorry it took me so long but I hope it was worth it!

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**Chapter 21:**

The sun beat down, warming Wilson and House as they walked up to Cuddy's house; the trees surrounding it swaying in the April breeze. They walked around to the backyard. The day had become warmer than any of them thought so they were going to spend most of the afternoon outside, on the deck while Rachel ran around in the yard.

The uneven ground was treacherous for both men but they made it to the deck without problem, House barely managing to avoid having his legs crushed by Rachel. Wilson had been released from his crutches but only after thirty minutes of arguing with his doctor and a promise to take it easy and use his ankle brace. He knew that taking it easy wouldn't be hard since it was a beautiful day, meant for relaxing but he had forgotten to put on the brace this morning; something he hadn't mentioned to House.

"Wilson!" Cuddy greeted warmly as she came up to offer a gentle hug.

"You never greet me that way." House grumbled jokingly.

"Gee, I wonder why." Cuddy deadpanned as both men slowly made their way up the few steps. Lucas came out of the house carrying a platter full of meat, making Wilson's mouth water with anticipation.

"Think you got enough meat there?" House joked, a hungry look in his eyes.

"No." Both Cuddy and Lucas answered as the sound of the grill sizzling and the smell of food filled the air.

"Do you need any help with anything?" Wilson offered with a smile.

"Yeah," Lucas answered before Cuddy had a chance to tell him otherwise, "there's a basket of condiments inside on the counter. Could you grab it?"

"Sure." Wilson answered, happy to be of some use. He found the basket easily and returned with it two minutes later.

"Do you guys want something to drink? There's beer in the fridge." Cuddy offered.

"Beer sounds good." House answered from his place on one of the lawn chairs, his leg resting on another.

"I'll get it." Wilson replied, stalling Cuddy from becoming a gofer. "Do you want anything while I'm in there?"

"Beer for me too!" Lucas called out as Rachel dragged him off the deck to go play Duck Duck Goose. With only those two playing, it more turned into a game of Chase Rachel.

"Cuddy?" He asked wanting to make sure he got everyone.

"I'm good." She answered, holding up her glass of water. She picked up a carrot from the veggie tray and popped in her mouth.

When he returned, Lucas and Rachel were still running around the yard and House and Cuddy were digging into the veggies. "You might not want to fill yourself up on vegetables." Wilson playfully scolded his lover as he came up behind him and snagged the last carrot. "You have an entire grill full of burgers, hot dogs, brats, steak and ribs that you still have to eat."

"MM." House responded contemplatively. "I see your point."

Wilson chuckled thickly. "I thought you might."

Rachel came running onto the deck again, a panting Lucas behind her. "Come play!" She cried out, pulling on Wilson's jeans.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I can't." He told her gently. Usually he didn't mind running around, playing with kids but he knew his ankle couldn't take it right now. While he was able to walk without aid, he was still forced to limp around; unable to fully place weight on it.

"Please!" She begged, pouting.

"Rachel," Cuddy warned, "what have we told you about asking twice?"

"Never take the first answer if you don't like it." Rachel responded, her eyes screwed up in concentration. Lucas had started to try to sneak away.

"Lucas!" Cuddy called out annoyed, earning laughs from the other two men.

"What? It's true isn't it?" He defended weakly.

"Not for a child it's not." She answered before she turned to her daughter. "Honey, if someone says "No" then they mean "No". Ok?" The child frowned but nodded her head and ran off to continue playing with her father.

"I should check the grill." Cuddy said with a sigh.

"I got it." Wilson answered making his way over to the grill. He opened the lid, coughing as the smoke reached his lungs. Grabbing the tongs, the oncologist checked and turned over all the meat, adding some spices and lightly brushing sauce over the ribs. "Should be ready in a few more minutes." He said as he pulled up a seat next to House.

The group on the deck watched the two in the yard running around and chatted casually as they waited for the food to finish.

* * *

"That was good, thanks guys." Wilson said before he took his and House's plates into the kitchen and rinsed them off. He allowed himself a moment to lean against the sink counter and take some weight off his ankle; it had begun to throb and he wanted to keep it at that level rather than allowing it to escalate. He walked back to join the rest, his limp more pronounced than it was going in.

House lay stretched out on a cushioned bench, his eyes closed and head back letting the wonderful meal settle in his stomach. His attention was refocused from his very full stomach to his partner by the sounds of uneven footfalls.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to see Wilson limping his way over to join him. The diagnostician frowned at sight; sometime in between getting to Cuddy's place and now, Wilson's ankle had begun to hurt and he hadn't realized it. He must be getting old!

Wilson gave him a warm smile as he sat himself up effectively making room for the oncologist to sit down. "Thanks." Wilson told him, leaning against the back of the bench and closing his eyes, contentment rolling off of him in waves. Only the fine lines around his eyes and the way his hand rubbed his thigh gave away Wilson was hurting; two things House knew neither Cuddy nor Lucas would pick up on.

Rachel continued her run around the yard, squealing with delight at nothing in particular while the adults lounged about on the deck. No one seemed in any particular hurry to get up and move as the sounds of birds singing, insects buzzing and the breeze blowing the trees lulled them all into a nap.

Wilson was the first to snap out of it. "I think I should get the rest of these dishes into the kitchen before I fall asleep." He joked easily with a sigh as he stood up. He walked over to the vacated table, wincing when he put weight on his right leg, and grabbed the randomly assorted bowls and plates of food; stacking them with ease.

"I'll help." House declared, surprising them all with the offer.

Wilson stared at his friend for a moment, guessing that he had an ulterior motive, before he turned his attention back to his task. He handed a couple plates to the waiting hand and then headed back into the house.

Being ever the "Suzy Homemaker", Wilson began emptying out the bowls that still had food in them before he rinsed them out in the sink and began loading the dishwasher; leaving the bigger bowls to be hand washed.

While he was washing the bigger bowls, House came up beside him with a towel; preparing to help dry them off.

"We should go home after this." The older man suggested.

"Why, is your leg hurting?" Wilson replied, concern coloring his soft, handsome features.

"No, yours is." House retorted. "Besides, I have some plans of my own tonight."

"Oh really? Do they include watching porn and drinking beer?" The oncologist asked as he washed the last bowl.

"Nope but they do involve a massage and slow, hot sex."

"With one of your hookers?

"Jimmy is that any way to talk about yourself?" House asked shocked.

"Oh! You planned on me giving you the massage and then sex." Wilson responded in fake realization.

"Actually I had planed on giving you the massage and then giving each other sex." House answered as he placed the last bowl on the stack. He knew Cuddy kept them in the cupboard by the stove and he wasn't going to bend down to put them away.

Wilson raised his eyebrows at House's suggestion, a sultry grin spreading across his face and warming his brown eyes. "I think that sounds like an excellent plan." He whispered as he stepped closer, closing the distance between their bodies.

House let out a low groan as he felt the heat and desire rolling off Wilson's body, intoxicating his own. "You know, we could just borrow Cuddy's bed." He suggested slyly.

"Uh-uh." Wilson objected childishly before he planted a kiss on his lover. "Let's go home." He panted, trying to catch his breath.

"If you insist dear." House quipped as he walked back outside, waiting impatiently for Cuddy and Lucas to stop playing with Tweedle Dum long enough to notice him.

They came walking up to him just as Wilson emerged from the house. "Well this was great but we're gonna go." House told the two in front of him.

"Is everything ok? You guys were in there awhile." Cuddy asked suspiciously.

An "Everything's fine." from Wilson and "Wilson's hurting." from House came at the same time, both men glaring at the other.

"Okay," Cuddy said, dragging out the word, "which is it?"

House stared Wilson down. "Both." The latter finally answered.

"How can it be both?" Lucas asked.

"The reason we were in there so long was because we were cleaning up and doing dishes, so in that respect – everything's fine." Wilson explained before hesitantly continuing as he and House awkwardly walked down the steps onto the grass, "But I am hurting and I think it's time for us to go."

Sensing his embarrassment, Cuddy and Lucas refrained from acknowledging Wilson's pain; not asking whether he was ok or needed anything. "Well, thanks for coming!" Cuddy said cheerily as she stepped forward, giving Wilson a hug.

"Thanks for inviting us." Wilson replied warmly. "Have a great Sunday and we'll see you Monday."

House stayed quiet, offering nods of parting and letting Wilson do the talking for him. They walked back to the car, Wilson walking slower than House, making sure to be careful of holes; neither one wanted an injury from not watching where they were going.

After much argument, Wilson drove home having decided that House needed to rest his leg. It wasn't a very wise decision but he wasn't about to back down or change his mind. He winced, grimaced or clenched his teeth every time he had to switch from the gas or the brake, his ankle raging its protest at the pressure each time but he did his best to ignore it; if all else failed he'd ice it while House massaged him.

* * *

They arrived in front of their house fifteen minutes later, parked and climbed out. House had taken a Vicodin in the car so he was moving easier than he was when he got in the car. Secretly he was grateful for the break and chance to rest his leg but outwardly he was annoyed with his friend for hurting himself to give the diagnostician that chance.

He had seen the winces and grimaces of pain and the way he had clenched his teeth but he made no comment since it wouldn't do any good anyways.

By the time they entered the condo, Wilson was limping heavier than normal. Warm, throbbing pain pulsed throughout his foot and leg, increasing to burning, sharp pain when he placed weight on it.

Having been able to get inside faster than his friend, House was waiting for him with a pair of crutches in his hand. Wilson glared at him but the older man wouldn't budge until he'd grabbed the detested instruments and used them. Though he'd never admit it, it Wilson did feel better not having to bear weight on his ankle and it was easier to get around now.

He headed for the kitchen, intending to grab the bag of years old frozen peas that House uses for an ice pack and a towel but was sidelined by House saying, "Nope, bed!" before he disappeared from view.

Wilson heaved a heavy sigh and crutched toward the bedroom surprised that he hadn't run into House as he noticed a bottle of baby oil on the bedside table. He placed his crutches against the furthest wall from the bed, hoping that he wouldn't need them again, and sat down on the bed. He proceeded to take off his shoes and socks, hissing when he did the right side, and then slipped out of his jeans and nice shirt. After having decided to leave on the undershirt and underwear, he lay himself down on the bed; closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of relief when he got off his feet.

"Comfortable?" A gruff voice asked followed by the sound of him walking to the bed and the crinkle of a bag of frozen peas.

Wilson opened his eyes to find House standing naked by his side of the bed, a towel and the bag of frozen peas on the bed beside Wilson's leg. He sat up, grabbing both items and placing them on top of his swollen ankle.

"You probably should have waited until you were naked to do that. Now we have to try to maneuver your underwear around the ice pack." House replied, sliding onto the bed.

The younger man looked down at his clothes and then, slowly, scanned his lover. "Good point." He conceded before he pulled his shirt off. He jerked his leg so the ice pack fell easily off its place and then he slid out of his underwear.

After replacing the ice pack, he scooted back against the headboard waiting for instructions. "You're running the show," he told his friend, "you tell me where I need to be."

House scooted closer, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his friend and slowly scanning his blue eyes over the naked body before him, stopping over the iced ankle to try to decide exactly what he wanted to do and the logistics of doing it with both of them hurting.

He finally settled on keeping Wilson where he was for a moment, flipping himself around so he was leaning against the footboard rather than the headboard. House grabbed his lover's feet, softly pulling them to where they lay between his legs. Wilson scooted to his right to compensate for the odd angle the action placed him in, easily allowing House to place his aching right leg parallel to Wilson's left.

Gentle hands kneaded the tight muscles in Wilson's left foot, ankle and calf; the slow circular motions lulling him into relaxed heaven. He let out a moan of pleasure and felt the pressure increase, stopping just below his knee. His leg was lowered and he felt the coolness of the ice pack disappear.

"How's your ankle?" House asked as he delicately began to massage the right foot.

"Better." Wilson answered, a mixture of pain and pleasure confounding his mind.

"K." House answered, able to read in between the lines of Wilson's answer and the combination of discomfort and bliss on his face. He deftly avoided the injured ankle and the closest areas around it, moving from the top of Wilson's foot to the middle of his calf.

He felt a muscle in Wilson's leg tighten significantly and decided to try to loosen it only to have the man in question yelp in pain. "Must be injured." Wilson dismissed, reddening slightly in embarrassment and grimacing as House's hands accidentally brushed the area again.

House nodded, allowing his friend to relax back against the pillows again as he moved back over to the other leg; replacing the ice pack before he did. He sensually moved his hands up Wilson's leg, passing over the knee and massaging the thigh; brushing his hands close to the hardness of the man's groin.

Wilson gasped at the slight touch, slowly working it against the back of House's hand harder while the man continues to massage his thigh.

The older man moves his hands away from Wilson's thigh, placing them on either side of his lover and leans down; giving soft kisses to his stomach, working his way up to his chest, the beautiful collar bone and the stimulatingly arousing neck.

Wilson felt himself grow close to losing his mind with anticipation as House nibbled on his neck and ear lobe. With out thought he threw the other man onto the bed beside him, rolling over and switching places. His mouth roaming over his lover's body, nibbling and kissing where it liked while his left hand gently massaged the aching right thigh and his right held him up.

House growled lustily into his hair, his own erection making itself known; poking into Wilson's stomach. He threw House a sultry look before he continued his exploration down to the erection, enveloping it, taking House deeply into his mouth and sucking.

He pulled away when he felt House begin to grind his hips, slowly beginning to fuck Wilson's throat. "Not yet love." He whispered silkily into the other man's ear while his right hand wrapped around the erection that ached to be petted. "Remember, you said all night."

"Damn James," House groaned pleasurably, "you're killing me with the anticipation."

Wilson laughed throatily, making House want him more. "Now you know how I felt." He teased as he began rubbing their cocks together, House's pre-cum providing the lubrication.

Both moaned in erotic pleasure with the action, their breathing becoming fast and erratic, before Wilson wrapped his hand around them, providing more friction and pressure. "Please!" House begged in a moaned exhale.

The younger man smiled wonderfully, moving himself down between House's legs; rubbing him along House's left leg all the while. His mouth covered the penis, applying wonderful, sensual, pressure and teeth; his body bobbed up and down on House's cock, his hands using House's hips to steady himself.

"Fuck James!" House cried out, ripples of ecstasy running through his body.

"Yes, please!" Wilson replied playfully, not totally unprepared for House to grab him and throw him on to the spot to his left; preparing to do just that.

House quickly grabbed the lube from the table, placing an inordinate amount on his fingers. He eased them into Wilson's hole, gently but insistently loosening it, preparing it for House to enter.

He rammed into Wilson with a fervor born of lust eliciting cries of pain and pleasure from them both. He drew back, not fully exiting, and rammed back in; repeating the process over and over until he could feel himself climaxing. He coiled his body around his lover, grabbing the unattended to erection and massaging in time with his own movements; moaning, keening, grunting and groaning as he went.

He exploded in the other man with a last powerful thrust feeling his tension, anxiety and frustration deflate with his penis. House pulled out and collapsed back onto the bed, panting from the exertion but a satiated smile on his face.

Wilson rolled himself off his hands and knees; wrapping his injured leg around House's left, perfectly happy with the skin to skin to erection contact until the other man gained his second wind. "How's your leg?" He asked, concern taking over the lasciviousness for a moment.

"It'll hurt later but I'll worry about that then." House responded, his non-dominant hand slinking its way down petting, playing and massaging Wilson's erection.

"You should take a pill first." Wilson told him gently, knowing that if House didn't now he'd be in agony the rest of the night. He heard the familiar rattle of a prescription bottle and the sound of two pills hitting his lover's teeth before he swallowed them.

"Good idea." He answered, applying more and more pressure with his hand. "I've got some work to do." He purred. "My Jimmy has needs to be met." House whispered into Wilson's ear, his voice the tone of someone talking about a pet or an adored son.

The hand that squeezed his penis was nothing representing a parent or owner though; it was the feeling of a man wanting nothing more than to please his partner.

House pushed the other man down against the bed, flinging his right leg over Wilson's hips and pinning him there. He leaned down for a deep, passionate kiss before he pulled back; working his way, once again, down Wilson's body.

As he moved down, so did his hips, applying pressure to Wilson's legs and feet while he closed in on Wilson's penis, suckling coyly and nibbling playfully.

Wilson gave a moaned laugh, caught between laughing at the playfulness and the moan of pure pleasure. He bucked his hips, trying to fuck House's throat a little but quickly stopped with a quiet hiss of pain. House was sitting on his throbbing ankle, preventing him from doing much more than laying there and enjoying it; two things he didn't mind doing if it's what House demanded.

House had been too busy bobbing up and down on Wilson's dick to hear the soft exclamation of pain and slowly started applying more pressure to the shaft, using his teeth to nip the tip.

"A-a-ah," Wilson moaned deep in his throat, a little bit of pre-cum escaping the tip and in House's mouth. He grinned; his lover was close.

With the strength of someone who used one arm exponentially more than the other, House balanced himself with his right hand planted firmly on Wilson's left hip while his left wrapped around Wilson's balls; jerking, squeezing, grinding and massaging them with the control and firmness that only a guy could give.

"Hunnnhh." Wilson whined into his throat, arching his back and thrusting his hips again. "Fuck!" He cried out as House did it again. "Fuck, Greg, now!" He demanded.

House pulled away, still applying pressure with his mouth so he massaged Wilson's erection as he did so. "Let's go then." He invited enticingly.

Wilson didn't need any more encouragement, his hands gently supported House in the needed position; one holding him, one massaging the tight thigh. He went to grab the lube but House stopped him. "Just do it." He commanded impatiently; impatient but not unkindly.

The oncologist knew that it meant that House was near his limit so he didn't waste any time. He plunged into House, carefully at first to help loosen him then more furiously the looser he got.

He mimicked House's earlier position and wrapped himself around his lover, his hands kneading both thighs (though with different pressure) as his hips continued their dance. He held his breath as he felt himself climax, explode and deflate in House. Quickly, he pulled out, allowing them both to collapse back onto the bed with grimaces.

"You ok?" Wilson panted, worried about House's leg.

"Yeah. Massage helped," came the equally as out of breath reply.

"Good." He replied, truly happy that his friend's leg was hurting him too badly; his own body was another matter. While they're usually not little catholic school girls during sex, they also usually aren't so physical either. Throwing each other, no matter how gentle, onto the bed was not of the norm because it could hurt one of them; the bed may be a bed but it was still a little harder than most.

Wilson made a move to get up and grab them some water but stopped when his back zinged its protest. A little hiss escaped his lips, catching the other man's attention.

"You ok?" He asked, concern filling his voice.

"Yeah," Wilson grimaced, his right hand going towards the tight, painful muscle in his lower back. It found the right muscle and began trying to knead it, earning a groan from its master at the pain it ignited.

House's ears had perked up at the first hiss of pain, completely ignoring his friend's answer since the pain in his voice was easy to hear and now he rolled on his side to stare at the other man. "No you're not." He countered.

"I'm fine, probably just sore from more exercise than it was used to." Wilson dismissed, rolling onto his stomach and lifting his right leg to keep from extending his painful ankle.

House's eyes softened in compassion and pity. His hand snaked over to Wilson's back, gently rubbing until it found the offending muscle. He didn't like how taught it was nor how much pain the extremely soft pressure caused. "I think you pulled a muscle."

"Great," came the exasperated and muffled reply. Wilson had buried his head in his pillow to help stem the flow of tears the soft, well meant massaged had caused to fall.

Noticing the way Wilson held his leg in the air, House grabbed a pillow and placed on the bed; guiding the leg down onto it. "Only you could hurt yourself this much while having sex." House scolded lovingly while he ran his hands through the thick locks of brown hair.

"Says the man who's always in excruciating agony when we finish." Wilson quipped.

They both laughed and House curled himself closer to Wilson, gently wrapping his limbs around the pained man. "Get some rest." He instructed as he felt his own eyelids grow heavier.

"Will I feel better when I wake up?" Wilson grumbled.

House chuckled, "Nope but I will and then I can help get you to feeling better."

"Hm," Wilson pondered, "I'm going to hold you to that." He said, his hand gently squeezing House's leg.

House leaned down and offered an awkward kiss on his partner's cheek. "Get some sleep." He said before he returned to his previous spot and fell asleep; the sound of soft snores following him into the darkness.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22:**

House walked into PPTH earlier than normal Monday morning. Wilson's back was still painful so House thought it best to not allow the stubborn oncologist to drive in to work.

"House!" Cuddy called to him as she walked towards him. "You're here early."

"You're observant." House retorted continuing his walk to the elevators. "Wilson needed a ride in to work."

"Is he ok?" She asked confused.

"Why would you assume he's not?" He asked, his head slightly cocking to one side.

"Because, normally he can drive himself into work." She answered logically.

"He's fine," House dismissed, "he should be coming through those doors right about," he paused for a few seconds until he saw the beginnings of Wilson's shoes, "now."

On cue, Wilson stiffly limped through the door. He offered a warm smile at the nurse behind the help desk as he waited for his messages. "Morning." He greeted while continuing up to his office.

"Morning," Cuddy offered in return just before he entered the elevator. She turned around to ask House once again if Wilson was alright but the diagnostician had scampered away while her attention had been diverted.

"Dr. Cuddy." The nurse at the desk called, grabbing her attention.

"Yes." She answered walking closer.

"I found a few more messages for Dr. Wilson. I had accidentally placed them in the wrong area." She explained shyly.

"Okay, so call him back and have him get them." She responded, baffled why this girl (her nametag said Morgan) thought she should deliver them.

"I would but he didn't seem to be feeling well and I hate to make him come back."

"Not feeling well, what do you mean?" Cuddy asked a little shocked that he may be sick and she hadn't noticed.

"Well, I'm not sure if it is true but he seemed to be walking stiffly; like he hurt his back and didn't want to move it. Plus he's still limping and I know it's normal for him lately but I still feel guilty for making him walk too much; especially when half of his day is spent walking." The young girl explained, a deep red filling her cheeks.

Cuddy could tell that she was embarrassed about the things she'd said (and perhaps for the way she studies Wilson) but she could also see that the girl seemed genuinely concerned for Wilson's health which intrigued her since Morgan was bound to know that Wilson was in a relationship with House.

She thought about what Morgan had said and compared her observations with what she'd seen as well. Wilson had been moving rather stiffly and when he sees her first thing in the morning he usually stops by for a small chat before he goes to his office. The only times he really headed straight for his office was when he was hurting and, knowing him, wanted to hide it in case she'd tell him to go home.

"I-I-I'm sorry," Morgan stuttered apologetically thinking she'd said something wrong, "I shouldn't have said anything. I'll call his assistant and see if she has time to come get the messages."

"No," Cuddy objected realizing that the girl had been staring at her while she was off in her own thoughts, "it's ok. I'll take them. Thanks."

She took the messages from hesitant hands and headed for her Head of Oncology's office, stopping by his assistant's desk to make sure that he didn't have a patient right now. Knocking before she entered, she stepped into the tidy office to find the owner sitting rigidly behind his desk.

"Hey," he said as an unconscious grimace crossed his face and his right hand snaked its way to his back, "what's up?"

"Morgan at the front desk said that she'd found some more messages for you and asked me to bring them to you." She offered, holding out said messages just out of his reach that he'd have to lean forward to grab them.

He eyed the messages curiously, "Oh, why didn't she just call me and ask me to come back?"

"She said that you didn't seem to be feeling well and she didn't want to make you come back." She told him still holding the messages out for him to grab. Though she wanted to put her arm down because it was getting tired, she wanted to see if he COULD reach for them.

Wilson eyed her suspiciously. He could tell that she was holding the papers JUST out of his reach on purpose to see if he could get them. "Well, that was nice of her but I'll ask her to just call me next time." He offered as he leaned over his desk and grabbed the messages.

Pain shot through his back making him hiss and grimace then go back to his rigid position. His cheeks burned with heat, he knew he'd been caught.

"What's wrong with your back?" She asked pulling up a chair.

Wilson felt himself blush even deeper, "I pulled a muscle in it Saturday night."

"If it's still this painful, you should be at home resting." She reasoned.

"It's not that bad," Wilson argued dismissively, "really, I'm fine."

"Is there swelling? Have you taken anything for the pain?" Cuddy asked clinically though concern shone in her eyes.

"There's a little bit of swelling but I've been icing." Wilson answered knowing if he didn't he'd never get rid of her. "I take Ibuprofen twice a day."

Cuddy's brows furrowed, "Why only twice a day?"

"I haven't really needed it more." He answered simply.

"But you will take more if you need it right? I mean, you were at home resting when you were only taking it twice a day." She asked worried. She knew he had an aversion to pain medicine and wanted to make sure he'd take it if he was in pain.

"I'll be fine." He assured as his phone rang. "Well, time to get to work." He offered by way of a hint after he hung up.

"Of course but let me know if you need anything." She told him walking to his door.

"I will and thanks." He said holding up the forgotten messages.

She walked out and headed straight for House's office. He knew his friend was in pain and he still let him come to work so now he would be responsible for keeping an eye out for the oncologist.

* * *

Wilson walked back to his office, offering a tight smile to anyone he passed and refraining from placing his hand on his hurting back. He had just finished meeting with his latest patient and wanted to get up and stretch a bit; a move he was currently regretting.

He stepped into his office and checked to see when his next patient was due to arrive, grateful that it wasn't for another hour. He grabbed the pillow from his couch and lay down on the floor so he could stretch out his back that way instead.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep but apparently he had since the next thing the oncologist was aware of his office door opened and smacked him in the head. "Ow!" He cried out softly, bringing his hand to his throbbing head.

"Dr. Wilson!" His next patient cried, "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were on your floor. Are you alright?"

Wilson looked up, pained chocolate brown eyes meeting anxious green. "It's okay Cecile, I'm fine. I guess lying on the floor in your office isn't the best place to be." He joked as he stiffly got up.

Cecile moved in to help him, noticing that he wasn't moving with his normal grace. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He answered walking around his desk and sitting down. In truth, his head was pounding furiously and his back throbbed angrily but he wasn't going to admit that to her. "So, how are you doing?"

* * *

Cuddy walked into House's office to find him sitting behind his desk, seemingly relaxing while stretching out. "You let him come to work?" She asked, the hydraulics of the glass door hissing closed.

"Chase AND Foreman owe me $100!" House said smirking.

"What?" She asked confused.

"We made a bet on how long it would take you to go into "mother-bear" mode. I won." He answered with his eyebrows raised. "Wilson's fine. He's moving around easier than he was yesterday and there was NO keeping him home. You know how he is with his patients."

"Just because he's moving around easier doesn't mean he's not in pain and you could have refused to drive him in to work. I know you don't have a problem staying home unnecessarily." She countered.

"So you admit that it was unnecessary for him to stay home?" He asked.

"What? No, but it would be unnecessary for YOU to stay home which I know you would have done if he had stayed."

"If I had refused to drive him to work, he would have driven himself which probably would have landed him in the ER. He'll be fine. Don't worry I'm keeping an eye on him." House responded logically.

"Fine, but don't think this means you get out of clinic duty." She warned pointing a finger at him.

"How am I supposed to keep an eye on him AND do my clinic hours?" House griped, sitting up and taking his legs off his desk.

"Figure it out. We'll be one doctor short so you have to be there."

"Really? Who's not showing up?"

"Wilson!" Cuddy explained confused how a world genius diagnostician could be SO dense.

"Please," House scoffed, "you know he'll show up for clinic duty."

"No he won't and if he does, he will be sent away and you will be called down early." She threatened hoping it was enough to spur him into keeping his friend away from the clinic.

She walked out of his office before he could argue, leaving an annoyed House behind her. As she walked into the elevators she wondered how two grown men always made her feel like she was their mother instead of their boss and friend.

* * *

**Finally got this chapter posted. I apologize for the time delay and for the crappiness that is this chapter. My brain went kaput near the end so I thought it best to end it now and try to make the next chapter good! Thanks to those of you whom have been sticking with it!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23:**

House watched Wilson through the glass balcony door of his office. When he saw Wilson usher his latest patient out the door, House jumped up as fast as a cripple can and hopped over the dividing wall. He barged in catching its owner off guard and making him jump. He almost apologized when a pained look crossed his friend's face at that time but instead he held his head high. "You should go home."

"Cuddy talk to you?" Wilson asked. In truth going home had been slowly starting to sound like a good idea since Cuddy left but he wasn't going to cave that easily.

"Yeah and I'm officially in charge of watching over you." House snarked.

"I don't need a babysitter." Wilson grumbled.

"All evidence to the contrary." House answered. He waited a minute for the confused look which he knew he'd get and then continued, "You shouldn't have come in to work this morning."

"House, I'm fine." Wilson argued holding out a placating hand.

House eyed him skeptically a moment before he swiftly closed the distance between them, spun Wilson around and bent him back for a kiss. Had it not been for Wilson's hurt back, the move would have been very romantic and reminded one of a poster, all they needed was a 1940s parade going on in the background and they'd be set.

As it was, Wilson let out a pained cry and jerked away from the painful movement. House gently eased him onto the couch which happened to be the closest thing to sit on. "I'm sorry." He said softly, brushing a hand over Wilson's tear streaked face. "It was the best way to prove my point."

"House, I'm not even sure how well I could have done that if my back wasn't hurt." Wilson answered through clenched teeth. Fire seared through his back, throbbing in time with his rapid heartbeat.

House answered by un-tucking Wilson's shirts and taking a tube of Bengay out of his own coat pocket. He spread it on his hand then began to gently massaging his lover's back, applying the cream and trying to soothe the painful muscles. He wrinkled his nose at the smell but he didn't think that an ice or heat pack would act quite as fast.

He let out a silent breath of relief when Wilson leaned into him, laying his head on House's shoulder while the same arm continued the gentle, soothing motions on his back. House applied a little bit more cream and continued his ministrations. He didn't think it was really necessary but it helped a little to ease the guilt of hurting his friend so badly.

"Thanks." Wilson said, interrupting House's random thoughts.

House nodded and continued his massaging. "You're going to go home. No arguments."

"House, I-"

"You're not fine." House interrupted. "This muscle right here," he pressed harder on a very tight muscle in Wilson's back earning a pained hiss from the oncologist, "supports my theory. I've been watching you all morning; you can barely walk from your desk to your door. You won't be able to do your patient rounds and you're definitely not able to do your clinic duty." He conveniently left out the part where Cuddy had forbidden Wilson from showing up anyways to hopefully help drive his point home.

"Then I'll just sit in my office, catch up on paperwork and patient visits." Wilson bargained.

"Uh-uh." House countered. "We are going to take our lunch break right now, I'm going to drive you home and you will stay there while I come back and work."

Wilson didn't miss the finality in his partner's tone and therefore hung his head in defeat. "Wait, you're going to come back and work?" He asked skeptically once the words had registered with his brain.

"Have to." House answered unhappily. Truthfully, he wanted to stay home with Wilson and make sure the man didn't overdo himself while at home but Cuddy had made it very clear that he would need to be there for clinic duty at the least.

He got up, leaving his friend still sitting on the couch, and grabbed Wilson's things. He grudgingly packed some patient files and paperwork into Wilson's briefcase, hoping that they'd keep him in bed or at the very least on the couch while helping ease the oncologist's anxiety about not working.

Wilson stiffly stood up, grimacing when he felt twinges of deeply throbbing pain radiate through his back. He wanted to be mad at House for pulling the stunt he did but Wilson understood why he did it and the Bengay massage he was given afterwards helped to ease his temper.

House watched his friend stand with remorse reflecting in his eyes but made no move to help. He settled for finishing packing then grabbing Wilson's coat. He tossed the coat to the younger man, the answering groan reminding him that that probably hadn't been the best idea, and then opened the door.

Wilson stiffly and awkwardly walked through the open door, waiting for House to close it behind him so he could lock his office up for the night. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, "I need to let my assistant and Cuddy know."

"I already told your assistant and we'll let Cuddy know as we're leaving." House assured, pressing the ground floor button of the elevator.

The ride went quickly and they slowly walked towards the entrance doors. "You head to the car, I'll just stop and let Cuddy know we're leaving." House instructed, handing Wilson the keys.

Wilson wanted to argue but he knew there was no point to it and just nodded his head before continuing his slow hobble to the car.

House spun on his heel and walked into Cuddy's office. "I'm taking Wilson home. He'll return tomorrow."

"Uh, okay." Cuddy responded caught off guard by the sudden announcement. "Is he ok?"

"Yeah, besides moving around like a 90 year old grandpa because his back hurts, he's fine." House quipped cheerily.

"Fine but you better return for your clinic hours. We need you here today."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. I'll return for my three hours of torture after I get Wilson home and settled." House answered before he spun around and left.

He made it to the car in time to see the passenger side door closing. Damn, Wilson must be really hurting to take that long to get to and in the car. He limped over to the driver's side and got in, reaching out instinctively for the car keys from Wilson who automatically handed them over.

House walked into their home ahead of Wilson and plugged in a heating pad next to Wilson's side of the bed then fluffed a few firm pillows to help support his back. Just as he was about to go check on the oncologist he walked slowly, stiffly and painfully into the room.

The diagnostician immediately went about stripping the younger man and gently easing him onto the bed into a sitting up position with the heating pad resting against the sorest muscles. He hadn't realized that he had been doing all this so attentively or gently until he took in the confused but appreciative look on Wilson's face.

"Thanks." Wilson said softly, grabbing House's hand and giving it a light kiss.

Wordlessly, House handed Wilson his briefcase while he tried to decide what to say. He finally settled on, "No need to go all girly on me, I just don't want you whining like a baby about how much your back hurts when I come home."

"Yes, God forbid Gregory House shows that he cares about someone." Wilson quipped.

"You already know I care about you." House answered.

"Yes, I do but that doesn't mean I don't like to see it, or rather feel it, every now and then."

House sat down on the side of the bed, slightly dipping Wilson toward him, and grabbed his friend's face. "I love you." He said before covering Wilson's lips with his and put as much meaning into the kiss as he could, hoping to drive the truth home. In hindsight he didn't remember why he felt such a strong need to do this but it worked and he wasn't going to question his decision.

"I love you too." Wilson responded once they'd pulled away from each other. He ran a hand over House's scrubble before he dropped it saying, "Now go before Cuddy sends out a search party."

House nodded then stood up and left, locking the door behind him.

* * *

When he returned home that night, he was greeted to a freshly cleaned loft and the wonderful scents of home-cooked Chinese. His first instinct was t be lulled into complacency by the wonderful smell of dinner which wrapped around him and coaxed him into sitting on the couch but a protective instinct that he hadn't really known he'd had kicked in, driving him into the kitchen where he found Wilson gingerly moving around the kitchen wincing and grimacing if he moved too much or too quick.

"You're supposed to be in bed or on the couch." He scolded his friend.

"Oh, hey. I thought I'd make Chinese tonight." Wilson responded, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge House's scolding comment.

"Is it ready?" House answered while he put down his backpack and coat.

"Yes actually," Wilson responded, his brows furrowing in confusion. He'd been expecting more of an argument from House but maybe he was too distracted to push the conversation. Boy was he wrong!

"Good, now you can go sit down on the couch and not move til you're ready to go to bed." House instructed as he gently ushered the stubborn oncologist to the couch.

"House you do know that constant rest isn't always good for a hurt back right?" Wilson argued.

"And guessing by how clean the loft is and how much food there is you haven't been resting for the past three hours." House returned earning a deep blush of acknowledgement from Wilson. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Couch, now."

Once he got Wilson onto the couch and in a comfortable position, House went and grabbed one full plate of food and brought it over to its maker then grabbed his own.

They ate and watched a movie in silence, cuddled close together while not stressing their aching bodies too much. House kept a carefully trained eye on the man beside him, watching him for signs of pain or exhaustion since he knew that Wilson wouldn't admit to either. He finally caught them just as the movie ended.

Wilson felt his head falling back against the couch and decided to take the dishes into the kitchen and clean them before he fell asleep. He knew House wouldn't so therefore he would.

He grimaced and hissed as he stood but was able to make it and grabbed the plates before House could object. He heard the _step thump_ of House behind him and knew that it was only a matter of time before he was man-handled into the bedroom but he didn't care. In fact, he kind of liked it. Sure, it seemed a little caveman but it was House's main way of showing that he cared and worried about Wilson.

Sure enough, not two minutes later Wilson felt one strong hand grab his arm, stilling him from loading the dishwasher, and another gentler hand rub his back. "Come on, I'll do those later." House whispered in his ear.

"I can do dishes House and I'm almost done." Wilson argued lightly not wanting to offend his lover.

"And you're doing a lovely job but you're also grimacing every time you bend down to do it." House countered.

Wilson had continued to load the dishwasher with House's hand never leaving his back so by the time they'd finished arguing he was finished. He gingerly turned around, leaning against the counter while House leaned against him, "Ok, I'm done. Let's go."

House nodded and left Wilson to slowly make his way into the bedroom while he once again went and plugged in the heating pad and fluffed pillows. He didn't know if Wilson was actually tired or not but he wanted to make sure that there were firm pillows waiting in case he wasn't.

Wilson smiled as he watched House diligently fluff his pillows and get his side of the bed ready for him. While he liked House showing concern he was also confused about why he was at this point in time. He'd seen Wilson with a hurt back lots of times and didn't show this amount of concern then, so why now?

He gingerly crawled into bed, hissing when he moved wrong and then settled against the heating pad covered pillows, grabbing one of his patient files to peruse before going to sleep. He soon found that he couldn't concentrate and turned to talk to House only to find the older man already staring at him, watching him.

Chocolate eyes studied ocean blue for a few minutes. Wilson felt his eyes widen slightly when he recognized the emotions swirling through his friends: concern, study and remorse. But what did House have to feel bad about? "What?" He asked forgetting to try to sound annoyed because of his own curiosity.

"Nothing, just like looking at you." House answered, turning his attention back to the medical journal he'd had on the bedside table.

"Yes, that's why you normally do it looking like you'd kicked a dog." Wilson countered in his usual tone.

"I practically did." House answered truthfully before he rolled his eyes and mentally smacked his head. He hadn't meant for that to come out.

"You kicked a dog? When?" Wilson answered immediately worried for the dog.

"Will you calm down, I was referring to you." House said irritably.

Confused Wilson replied, "What? I'm not a dog."

"But I did practically kick you." House supplied. He stopped his explanation, hoping to be able to derail the conversation but when he looked into his friend's confused brown eyes he knew he'd have to continue. "Earlier, when I was making a point, I did it in the most painful way I could think of."

Wilson studied House for a moment before he recognized what House was meaning, "House, that was no big deal."

"I got that by how little you can move without pain." House quipped.

Wilson released a frustrated sigh, "Seriously, this isn't a big deal. Besides I'd rather have back pain from what we did over the weekend than from sleeping on a couch or bending over to pick up paperwork."

House smiled slightly at the amount of memories that have accumulated due to those two specific sets of circumstances. Yes, there have been MANY times that Wilson has hurt his back from sleeping on hard, lumpy surfaces or bending down too quickly. He specifically remembered a time when Wilson and Amber had gone mattress shopping because of it; Wilson had been left to walk around like a geriatric for a few days.

He was brought out of his memories by a hissed groan next to him and looked over to find Wilson easing himself into the bed, indicating that he wanted to go to sleep. House followed his example, slipping one last Vicodin for the day before he settled in.

Wilson scooted closer to House as gently as he could and was grateful when the older man started doing the same thing. He wrapped his left leg around House, his left hand resting comfortably on House's shoulder. He groaned when he pulled on a tender muscle but made no move to change his position.

"I'm sorry you're hurting." House whispered so softly Wilson wasn't sure he'd heard it. He felt his heart wrench painfully at the remorse in his friend's voice; it almost made him want to cry.

"I'm fine. Now go to sleep, I'm tired." He reassured while rubbing circles into House's shoulder.

House harrumphed at Wilson's command but snuggled closer before he landed a gentle nibble on Wilson's neck. "Good night Wilson."

"Night House." Wilson responded as he let their even breathing sing him to sleep.

* * *

**Alright everyone I think this next chapter will be my last for this story. Thank you to those of you who have stuck with it! **


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24:**

**DING DONG – KNOCK KNOCK**

House and Wilson stood at Cuddy's door waiting to be let in. It was Thanksgiving Day so they were there for their annual Thanksgiving Day Dinner with their friends. Wilson held a bottle of wine while House just held himself.

The weather had been cold and the meteorologist's predicted some snow tonight which didn't make either man happy but they held out hope that it wouldn't come.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Cuddy greeted cheerily as she opened the door.

"Happy Thanksgiving Lisa," Wilson greeted in return before entering the house.

"Do you always open the door that way?" House asked curiously as he limped inside.

"Only on Thanksgiving. On Christmas I say 'Happy Fourth of July'" Cuddy quipped lightly, taking their coats and hanging them up before she ushered them into the living room.

House smiled appreciatively at her joke but didn't respond. Instead he settled for plopping loudly onto the couch. His thigh had started to throb its protest to the weather and being used earlier in the day, so House started to massage it in the hope to get ahead of the pain before it became too bad.

Wilson remained standing, fully intending on seeing if Cuddy or Lucas needed help in the kitchen or with setting the table. His own leg felt like one big throbbing limb but he wasn't about to let his host's know that. He'd had a busy week between his patient-load, House's patient-load, clinic duty, patient rounds and taking care of a very badly hurting House after work so he hadn't been able to rest the arthritic knee and ankle as much as he should.

He was about to say something when Cuddy beat him to it, "I think Lucas could use some help with the turkey and table, would you mind?" She asked knowing full well that Wilson wanted to help.

"Of course." He granted, slowly making his way to the kitchen.

Cuddy watched him go with a frown, "Is he okay?" She asked turning to House.

"He's fine, why?" House answered lightly, his hand still massaging his ruined thigh.

"He's limping," she said wanting to put more behind it but dismissing it instead, "are you okay? Wilson said your leg's been giving you trouble lately."

"Wilson's a gossiper." House answered not happy that Wilson had been talking with Cuddy about him at all.

"We weren't gossiping. He was explaining why he was working your clinic hours every day this week." Cuddy informed the diagnostician, scolding and disappointment in her voice. House looked up at her with confusion cleverly disguised as 'you're an idiot' in his eyes. "You didn't notice that I haven't been bugging you about your clinic duty?"

"I did, I just figured you were thankfully too busy to notice." House replied, the sound of uneven footfalls drawing his attention to his partner bringing out a stack of plates. He frowned when he noticed that Cuddy was right, Wilson was limping but he was trying to hide it.

"Well, I should go help them." She said, turning away from him and walking towards the kitchen.

House pulled out the amber vial and dumped two pills onto his palm. He noted with a frown that he was almost out and wondered if he could talk Wilson into filling his prescription again. Given that he'd just had it refilled a week ago, House doubted Wilson would do it but he hoped that knowing how bad his leg has been hurting the past week, the oncologist would cut him some slack.

Weeks like this one made him feel 70. He'd get up in agony, take a couple pills, go to work, do nothing but sit in his office or conference room with his leg up the entire day, have Wilson bring him lunch and handle his patients then go home, collapse on the couch, down a few drinks of Scotch and three more Vicodin then go to bed. The rational part of his mind knew that being in constant pain was draining on the body but the rest of him tried to argue that that didn't mean he should have been as exhausted as he always was by the end of the night.

Remembering the past week combined with Cuddy's admission helped something in his mind click. No wonder Wilson was limping, not only had he devoted his entire week to helping House out but he also had his own job to do which in and of itself is taxing on the oncologist.

House felt a pang of something akin to guilt pierce his heart. Oh, he knew that it wasn't his fault Wilson always put everyone else's needs before his own but he still felt bad that Cuddy had noticed that Wilson was in pain before he did.

_Of course she did! She's not stuck in agony 24/7! _A self-centered voice akin to his own shouted in his head.

_Or she isn't too caught up in her own problems to notice other peoples' pain. _A voice akin to Wilson's argued.

Wilson walked out of the kitchen once again this time carrying silverware and napkins. He looked in the living room to check on House only to find that the older man was starting to get up. "Where are you going?" He asked approaching his friend with his hands on his hips.

"I'm going to help." House answered, shocking Wilson.

"No," the oncologist argued, slightly shifting his weight from even to his left, "we've got everything under control. You sit and rest your leg, we're fine."

"You're not." House countered using his cane to poke Wilson's knee.

Wilson gasped as throbbing, burning pain shot through his leg with the poke. Instinctively he raised his leg a little off the ground, futilely hoping that giving it a rest from bearing weight would help ease the pain. "What was that for?" He asked half accusingly.

"Proved my point." House shrugged. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurting?"

"Because it wouldn't have made a difference." Wilson answered gruffly. House cocked his head at Wilson so he explained further yet using the simplest words he could, "Your pain trumps mine."

House stared at his friend slack-jawed. There weren't many things that could shock him into silence but sine that statement was the last thing he expected, it did and allowed its announcer to heavily limp away to continue helping.

How could Wilson believe that? It was no where near true. Sure, House's pain was more extreme and constant but that did not mean in any way that his pain was less important. Hell, if anything it meant that his was more important since House dealt with his pain daily. Nothing anybody did would make the pain go away so he got used to it. Wilson wasn't supposed to be in pain, it's just not the way life is supposed to be.

"House." Cuddy's voice called as a soft hand was laid on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Dinner's ready. Wilson's grabbing a heating pad and spare chair for you."

House clenched his jaw and said nothing. He knew that anything he said would be taken in the wrong context and he truly did just want to enjoy the day with his friends. He stiffly stood up and walked into the dining room while leaning heavily on his cane.

The diagnostician cursed his broken body as he watched Wilson limp almost as heavily into the room with a heating pad and a chair. He wished he could take care of his friend today and/or tonight, Wilson needed a night or two off his feet but House really didn't think he'd be much use until the weather warmed up and by then Wilson wouldn't need help.

Wilson stood close by House as the scruffy doctor lowered himself onto a chair and then elevated his leg onto another one. Almost every fiber of his being was screaming to help his friend but he knew House wouldn't accept the help even if it was needed. He plugged in the heating pad then handed it to his lover before sitting in a chair to House's left.

The meal passed amicably with conversational chatter filling in the silence when they weren't busy putting food in their mouths. Once finished, Wilson and Cuddy immediately got up and started clearing the dishes away. Lucas sat patiently while he waited for House to decide if he wanted to get up and go to the couch or stay where he was. Rachel offered a squeal as Wilson passed her then climbed out of her high chair and ran off to the play room.

House couldn't help but laugh at the child's fascination with his lover. Though he'd never admit it, it was kind of cute.

He and Lucas sat around chatting while they waited for Wilson and Cuddy to finish then they all went in to the living room. House sprawled out on the couch while Wilson sat down where House's feet ended. Cuddy and Lucas sat across from them in armchairs, each holding a glass of wine and looking very relaxed.

Wilson let out a grateful breath when he sat down on the couch. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to get up for a long time. After checking his watch however, that dream died. It was almost nine o'clock and he'd promised House they'd leave by no later than nine-thirty.

Cuddy, House and Lucas sat around sipping on their drinks while Wilson helped keep the conversation going. Time passed quickly and Wilson kept sneaking glances at his friend, always pleased when he found the older man's face relaxed and seemingly pain free. The oncologist suspected that the alcohol combined with Vicodin had something to do with that but he wasn't going to complain so long as House wasn't in extreme pain.

At nine-thirty, Wilson and House excused themselves politely from their hosts' home. House had had enough to drink that he needed Wilson's help getting out to the car and from the car to the loft.

Wilson gritted his teeth and helped get his friend into bed. His leg hadn't stopped its painful throb and each step renewed the pain with a vengeance. He was glad that House seemed in a pleasant near-drunk daze and therefore didn't noticed the tears of pain that trickled out of his eyes as he hobbled around the loft getting everything House needed to fall asleep pain free.

Once House was settled, Wilson grabbed a couple bags of frozen vegetables, a beer and Aleve then camped out on the couch watching a James Bond marathon. He placed the vegetable bags on top of his ankle and knee, draped a blanket over him then swallowed two Aleve with two drinks of beer.

He felt his eyelids becoming droopy but really didn't want to move from his comfortable position on the couch. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was hearing Roger Moore say, "Bond, James Bond."

* * *

House woke the net morning relatively pain free. Sure, the pain was still there but it was no where near as bad as it had been all week for which he was extremely grateful; as was his libido. He stretched his arm out and grabbed his morning Vicodin pill before rolling onto his left side to snuggle with Wilson.

He stared blankly at the empty spot before him for a minute until it dawned on him that Wilson hadn't slept in the bed last night. Was he mad at House or did he just get up early enough to make the bed and start breakfast?

The diagnostician sniffed the air and was disappointed to find that Wilson was not making breakfast. He got up out of bed, grimacing slightly at the throbbing in his head while he stumbled into the bathroom to take care of business.

Feeling more steady on his feet, House came out of the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen to start coffee. He could tell he had a slight hangover and hoped that caffeine would help clear the fog of said hangover so he could think clearly while at work.

The diagnostician stopped dead when he saw Wilson sleeping awkwardly on the couch. He shook his head in affection at the sight before he continued into the kitchen to start the coffee knowing that the scent would wake his friend up.

A few minutes later House was pouring a cup of coffee for himself when he heard a groan from the couch. He winced in sympathy when the groan emitted tones of pain in it but he didn't know exactly what hurt his friend. He poured another cup then limped over to the couch, sitting down on the coffee table to observe his friend.

Wilson lay stretched out on the couch, his head supported curvedly by a throw pillow while a couple more elevated his right leg. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were still shut but his facial expression echoed the pain House had heard in the groan. One hand gently massaged the right thigh while the other tried to sneak around to his neck and back.

The blanket that had previously been covering the oncologist had slipped off some time during the night and now lay on the floor beside the couch. Two bags of vegetables lay on the coffee table, warm and no doubt only good to serve as ice packs from here on out; no doubt Wilson had used them to ice his hurting joints.

"Wilson." House called to his groggy friend.

Wilson winced at the volume. His entire body was one throbbing entity and his head was no exception.

"Time to get up." House continued still at the same volume as before.

"House," Wilson croaked, "either shut up or go away."

House lowered his voice, "Head hurt huh?" He asked setting the cup of coffee he'd brought for Wilson on the coffee table before he helped ease his friend to sitting up.

Wilson couldn't stop the groan that escaped his mouth as his leg continued to throb mercilessly while his neck and back twinged painfully with the movement. He dropped his head into his hands, "Among other things."

Blue eyes softened as they watched with sympathy the pain the other man was in. "You should stay home and rest."

That got Wilson's attention. His head snapped up then he grimaced when his sore neck reminded him not to do that any time today. He stared at House a while before asking, "Are you okay? Is your leg okay?"

"I'm fine, my leg's fine. It's you who's not." House answered grumpily. "Maybe sleeping on the couch hadn't been your best idea."

"Yeah," Wilson answered almost as grumpy, "I'm gathering that." He hissed as he tried to stretch out his back but continued his ministrations relentlessly. "I appreciate the concern but I have to go to work."

"No you don't. Your department can live with out its star oncologist for the day and you need the rest. You've been running yourself ragged for the past eight days and your body is letting you know how bad an idea that was." House argued softly but firmly.

Without waiting for an answer, House flipped open his phone and called Cuddy.

"_What House?" _She demanded though she didn't sound annoyed.

"Wilson and I won't be coming in today." He answered simply with a sigh.

"_Why not?" _

"He's hurting and I need to take care of him."

"_I'm fairly certain he can take care of himself."_

"Maybe but I'd rather keep him off his feet as much as possible today which means I'd have to be here to take care of him."

"_Meaning you'd wait on him hand and foot for a day, make yourself hurt more and be useless the next day." _Cuddy chuckled.

"I won't be useless tomorrow." House objected managing to sound offended.

Cuddy sighed, _"How bad is he hurting really?"_

"Why are you going to make him come in anyways?" House challenged.

"_Judging by that answer he's not doing that bad so, yes." _

"No, Cuddy, he really is hurting." House automatically replied surprising both him and Wilson by the amount of pleading in his voice. House stood up and limped into the kitchen. He knew that wouldn't really help to keep Wilson from hearing what he was about to say but it made him feel better. "He's pushed himself past the point where his middle aged body can tolerate it. From the looks of it, his leg is still painful, his back and neck are strained and he has a migraine."

"_Fine but you both better be here on Monday. A four day weekend should be long enough for both of you to feel better." _

"Great, thanks." He hung up quickly before she could make any more amendments or try to talk him into coming in anyways.

Wilson sat listening to House's conversation with Cuddy in silence. He was surprised that House was pushing so hard to get him a day off. He really would be fine once he started moving more and loosening stiff muscles, there wasn't a need for him to stay home. He guessed that House was hurting more than he wanted to admit and projected it onto Wilson but then that didn't explain the pleading note in the older man's voice when he was practically begging Cuddy to let Wilson stay home; House hadn't even mentioned himself at that point in time, he really just wanted Wilson to be able to relax and rest.

While he was grateful that House had argued so hard to get him a four day weekend, Wilson really didn't want it. It only meant that he'd have even MORE work to do when he arrived back at work on Monday. He'd spend the entire thing dreading it and the Monday to come instead of enjoying it and relaxing.

"Thanks." He said when House came back to the living room and sat down on the coffee table.

House redirected his glance but nodded. "Come on. Let's get you in bed and feeling better. I have plans for us for the weekend but they need you feeling 100% for that to happen."

Wilson rolled his eyes playfully, "Of course, I knew you weren't trying to get me to stay home for my sake."

House gave a quick laugh before becoming serious and sincere. He scooted forward on the coffee table and cupped Wilson's face in his hands. "I really do want you to feel better."

Wilson gave an assuring blink and smile, "I know. Now, what was that I heard about waiting on me hand and foot?"

"Cheeky gimp." House answered with a roll of his eyes. He stood up and waited for Wilson to follow suit.

Wilson smiled widely. _Maybe this will be a great weekend after all!_

_~fin~

* * *

_**Well, there you are everyone. The end of the story! I hope you all liked how I ended it and if I get enough requests I may write a sequel or another story w/in this verse but I believe it was time to end this one. **

**Please review to let me know what you thought of it! I really appreciate your loyalty to this story, all of you!  
**


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